#Gojo Satoru Fanfiction

[strychnynegirl]

I've read this too many times. There's no hope for me. 🫣❤️🔥

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

[i7nn8a]

Warning: Contains explicit content.

Thinking about !satosugu, who are not only your boyfriends but also your best friends, and !name, a famous screenwriter who writes inappropriate stuff as practice for their craft.

!satosugu, where Satoru has to leave for a business trip for his father's company in two days and tries to spend as much time as possible with you two.

!satosugu, where Suguru is incredibly busy finishing a tattoo design that he needs to deliver to a client in a few hours.

!name, who really needs to finish the script for that episode — it’s the second season of the series, and the first was a huge success. You're so close to finishing the script, so why are you writing such an explicit adult fanfic?

That’s exactly what Suguru is wondering as he sets aside the iPad he was using for his drawing, now resting on his lap, while leaning over your right shoulder to read what you're typing on your computer. Meanwhile, Satoru is literally lying on your left side with a bag of chips in hand, closely reading everything you’re furiously typing on your laptop.

!satosugu, who can’t even remember if they had anything else to do, simply letting themselves get caught up in the story you're writing. You barely finish typing a sentence, and they’ve already read it.

!satosugu, who are completely absorbed by your story about two neighbors with immense sexual tension, where the !olderneighbor sleeps with her as a way to thank her for taking such good care of his nephew. Suguru can't wrap his head around how you, one of the most critically acclaimed screenwriters of recent times, are writing this. Satoru, on the other hand, has never been this entertained. Of course, neither of them dares to say a word so as not to disturb you.

!satosugu, who start losing their minds when the !olderneighbor uses a popsicle to have sex with the girl. A popsicle. They simply can’t believe the direction your mind has gone.

!satosugu, who pay attention to every—yes, every single—detail, intending to use them with you later. After all, if you’re writing this and letting them see it, it must mean you wouldn’t mind if something similar happened to you, right?

!satosugu, who, as soon as you finish writing, head out to buy a popsicle, specifically a coconut-flavored one.

!satosugu, who may or may not have you spread open on the bed, crying, with a popsicle buried inside you. Maybe. Maybe not.

!Satoru, who goes on his business trip happier than ever and hopes it goes by quickly so he can return to you both as soon as possible.

!Suguru, who finishes the tattoo design as fast as possible so he can dive deep into all the stories you read. Not that he’s grabbed your phone to check out your account or the stories you’re into or anything.

!satosugu, who might have started following you on your anonymous story account with anonymous accounts of their own.

Note: Maybe I’ll write the story about the !olderneighbor.

Hope you enjoy it.💞💞

[coffee-and-geto]

THE SPACE YOU LEFT BEHIND

“Will you stay with me?” It’s like a wish waiting to be granted. “Forever.”

pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer! reader

summary: indeed, after suguru has defected, you’ve been trying to heal yourself and to not loose your mind. but healing ourselves is always harder than helping others, isn’t it? but don’t forget the goal of a sorcerer: protect humans at the risk of your life. and sometimes, death is closer that we think it is.

warnings: heavy angst, injuries, mention of death, blood, depression, eating disorder, pinning, mention of vomit, mention of cigarettes, mei mei, nanami & shoko make and appearance, mention of yaga, the lion king movie mentionned, jujutsu sorcerers’ life sucks, the story takes shape after suguru's defection, bittersweet/happy ending.

wc: 5,039

When you committed to the world of exorcism after middle school, you hadn’t realized just how much you had underestimated the darker sides of this life, where exorcists dedicate their lives to protecting humans — the primary source of the curses’ existence.

Suguru was right, wasn’t he?

It’s because of them that your classmates died. It’s also their fault that your best friend deserted school after massacring an entire village during a mission.

That put an end to all the memories you cherished so dearly, kept, and illustrated in a diary.

Sunny afternoons after class, eating ice cream with your friends Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. The setting sun signaling the end of a fulfilling day, leading into sleepless nights of sleepovers, where Satoru brought piles of sweets ready to infest your mouths with cavities as Suguru told scary stories about his hometown.

Or shopping days with Shoko, dragging the two boys along to test makeup products on them — the ones you’d never buy considering their outrageous prices.

Or those dangerous missions where you hunted curses, tracking them down to uphold your values: protecting the weak to maintain order and peace.

Such a beautiful motto, isn’t it?

A motto meant to help you, guide you, and support you so you wouldn’t lose sight of your goals.

So why did it fail so much that your once-beloved diary now sits open on your desk, collecting dust since the last time you opened it — not to add a new memory, but rather to look at the last ones you wrote.

Suguru’s departure left a void far more significant and meaningful than you had expected, didn’t it?

Life feels duller. The sky no longer seems as sunny — replaced by a grayish one, heavy with dark clouds threatening storms that mirror your emotions. If you had no tears left to cry, the rain would suffice to push you into your room after classes and missions, both as exhausting as your mind, consumed by draining thoughts.

The silence left by Suguru’s absence is far louder than all the times you screamed into his voicemail after he stopped responding to you. Of course, eventually, you gave up. Not out of choice.

Simply because he had blocked you.

And when changing SIM cards proved futile, you quickly realized through the automatic response that the number you sought was no longer in service.

It felt like all your regrets had come crashing down at once. But in truth, they had only arrived right on time.

If you had helped Suguru the way he needed, he wouldn’t have left. 

He wouldn’t have been condemned.

You wouldn’t have stopped eating, stopped living your life the way you were told you should, or started losing your friends one by one.

Suguru was the first.

Shoko isn’t the second. The brunette seems to hold up much better — although the number of cigarettes she smokes daily has doubled — she doesn’t withdraw into herself the way you do. So, you’re sure you won’t lose her... right?

And as for Satoru… Will he be the next to leave, one way or another?

Or will it be you?

Either way, you’re losing yourselves. It’s been a while since you stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you last saw Satoru after Suguru’s departure.

Mr. Yaga confirmed that he hadn’t assigned him a single mission — the situation critical, delicate, and as fragile as a flower filled with poison that could make The Strongest falter at the slightest misstep or careless move.

He could very well be dead, and no one would know.

“So… you haven’t heard from him either?” Nanami murmurs, his deep, low voice almost swallowed by the muddy ground and heavy rain that poured as much as your overwhelmed mind.

You shake your head. “Not a single sign of life,” you mumble with the tip of your lips.

The two of you are on your way back to the school after a long mission assigned by your teacher, Yaga. It took you the entire day, but at least your mind feels lighter, despite the constant fatigue weighing on your shoulders like the weight of the world.

As the rain falls harder on you both, Nanami takes the initiative to open his black umbrella, holding it over your head as you stare at your mud-stained shoes.

“Almost three weeks.”

Your friend’s voice sounds distant, like hearing someone underwater.

Your head jerks up. “Hmm?”

“He hasn’t been out in almost three weeks,” Nanami repeats, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The crunching of your shoes and his on the gravel fills the silence before he continues. “Yaga gave him some time, but it’s getting harder to assign missions to others who are on Satoru’s level, you know.”

You don’t react to his words. Of course, he’s right.

Just as he’s wrong.

While Satoru’s behavior of shutting himself away without contact for so long isn’t responsible, his reasons remain entirely valid.

He just lost someone dear to him.

So, can you blame him?

But perhaps it’s time to bring your friend back, even if it means risking losing him — and yourself — in the process.

~~~~

You knock three times on Satoru’s dorm door.

A dead silence answers you.

You try again.

The same response.

So, you try the handle, testing whether it’s locked. However, it gives way under your hand, and a moment later, you step through the doorway into an unrecognizable environment.

Indeed, your best friend’s room — usually adorned with decorations and elements that so vividly reflected Satoru’s lively personality — is now unrecognizable. The windows, typically allowing sunlight to flood in and brighten the room, now shroud it in an ominous darkness. On the floor, clothes, likely dirty, are scattered at your feet. Satoru’s desk is covered in a visible layer of dust despite the dim light. And finally, on the bed you’ve always known, rests a long shape wrapped in thick blankets.

With his back turned to you, Satoru seems to be asleep from where you stand, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Even when you call his name, he doesn’t show any sign of awareness.

So, you close the door and kneel by the side of his bed.

“Satoru?” you murmur, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder covered by your friend’s indigo comforter.

The slight shiver running through him proves he’s very much awake.

But was his mind equally present?

“Satoru, were you sleeping?” you ask, shaking him carefully.

He doesn’t respond, not even with a gesture.

Your throat tightens in the face of a situation you’ve never had to face with him before.

How do you help someone who’s in the same situation as you?

In fact, it’s even worse.

Satoru is Suguru’s other half. Their symbiotic relationship always stopped you from seeing further with Satoru, leaving you questioning what he truly felt for Suguru. Because deep down, you knew you didn’t stand a chance. You’d never hold a place as important as Suguru’s in Satoru’s heart.

So, you chose to fill the void in your heart with love for him. It’s far from enough, but you’d rather not dwell on it. Unrequited love always ends this way, doesn’t it?

You straighten up just enough to lie down on the small remaining space on Satoru’s bed, carefully rubbing your friend’s arm to avoid startling him while offering the overflow of affection that aches to be reciprocated but, for now, can only warm the albino.

You don’t dare complain about the stale smell in the room, prioritizing Satoru’s comfort above all else. You drape your arm around him as he breathes in and out with a shaky rhythm, ignoring the cold of the room that freezes you just as much as the rain from earlier did.

Perhaps half an hour passes. 

Maybe an hour. 

Or more. 

Or even just ten minutes.

The oppressive silence of the room quickly catches up to the sleep deprivation you so desperately need to cure. The cold vanishes. In the end, it doesn’t matter, right?

The only thing that matters is having Satoru in your arms, no matter what, his back pressed securely against you as your breaths synchronize, and your heartbeats merge in a way you’ve always dreamed of.

But when you flutter your eyes open, the absence of cold is quickly replaced by body warmth. Satoru’s thick comforter is draped over you, and his body is pressed against yours.

But what strikes you most is that he’s no longer facing away.

Satoru, his eyelids closed, breathes softly and slowly, the shadow of haunted dark circles staining his angelic face.

You’re about to sit up when Satoru, still without opening his eyes, slides a hand over your arm.

“Don’t move,” he mumbles.

And his raspy voice nearly gives you a heart attack.

There’s only one way for someone to have that effect.

And more than anything, the slight swelling and redness of Satoru’s pale eyelids confirm your suspicions.

Resting your head back onto the pillow, your forehead lightly brushes against Satoru’s.

“Can you look at me?” Your lips move in a near-inaudible whisper.

Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Satoru,” you insist, maintaining the same melancholic gentleness.

So you take the initiative to slowly raise your hands, bringing them toward his soft face to gently lift his eyelids. But what you see causes a crack in your heart, one akin to the shattering of ice under the raw heat of fire.

A small, wet pearl escapes from one of his eyes, deliberately rolling down his cheek, crossing his nose, and vanishing at the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, Satoru opens his eyes, and the embodiment of pain meets your distressed gaze.

His cerulean irises, usually alive with mischief, are as dark as an abyssal chasm. It’s as though a curse itself has taken hold of his gaze, condemning anyone who dares to meet his bloodshot eyes.

Your eyebrows slowly knit together, and with your heart already shattered, you decide to wrap your arms around him, pulling an unrecognizable Satoru against you as his chest releases a trembling breath and your neck grows damp from the occasional drops of warmth falling from his face.

“I’m here,” you mutter in his ear. “I’m here no matter what.”

Your eyelids close slowly, letting the tears you’d held back finally roll down your own cheeks.

Once again, perhaps ten minutes, half an hour, or even the entire afternoon passes before you finally decide to sit up, gently pulling an exhausted Satoru into your arms.

And to your surprise, he allows it.

You help him stand, supporting him with an arm around his body despite the height difference, and guide him to the bathroom. The decision had been made a while ago, even if your consciousness hadn’t fully caught up. After all, you would have wanted someone to do the same for you.

But aren’t we always better at caring for others than for ourselves?

Without protest — even though the idea of seeing Satoru naked might have made you blush last month — immersing him in the warm bath you’ve carefully prepared doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expected. You’ve never seen him without at least his boxers, so out of respect, you avert your eyes as the poor boy settles into the hot water.

You grab a bottle of shampoo lying around in Satoru’s bathroom, squeezing out a small amount to wash his angelic hair. Despite having likely neglected his hygiene as much as you have lately, your friend is in desperate need of someone to care for him.

Satoru, his eyes still closed, seems almost asleep under your slow, gentle, and careful movements.

It looks like you’re washing a real dead man.

But perhaps part of him has been dead ever since Suguru left? Perhaps a piece of him vanished the moment Suguru was gone?

The faint hum vibrating from Satoru’s lips reassures you that he’s still conscious. You take it as a good sign that he’s relaxing. Your nails softly scratch his scalp, and he lets out a low groan of satisfaction. The foam grows thicker as you continue to massage Satoru’s head.

You rinse the shampoo from his hair with warm water, droplets trickling down his perfect face.

One of those droplets slides just below his eye, so imperceptibly that you wonder if you’d have noticed it at all if you weren’t gazing at his face with almost religious reverence.

Using a washcloth, you pick up Satoru’s body wash this time, lathering it across his skin, applying slightly more pressure to tense areas in need of a soothing massage. Soft sighs escape his nose, signaling that you can continue without bothering him.

After several massages where you pay special attention to certain spots, you fetch a robe, wrapping it around Satoru’s now-clean body. He’s like new, more ready now to hold onto a semblance of consciousness.

But one thing that strikes you is that Satoru, despite being entirely naked and in such a vulnerable state of weakness, allowed you to care for him without opening his eyes even once.

With a faint, gentle smile, you guide Satoru back to his room, grabbing some clean, comfortable clothes for him while he collapses onto his bed under the weight of the world on his shoulders. You help him into each piece of clothing, his body too weak to move as usual, almost lifeless. Then, you lead him to your room, crossing the school’s corridors so he can rest in the clean and organized space you’ve managed to create after pulling yourself together following your own depressive episode of endless, self-destructive days.

Your room is a true haven — tidy, clean, and orderly.

And so your freshly made bed with its crisp sheets seems to call to Satoru. The softness of the mattress cradles him as you drape your immaculate comforter over him.

Like laying a deceased loved one to rest in their coffin, Satoru keeps his eyes closed, his face void of expression, yet with a weariness that seems to have lifted ever so slightly.

~~~~

“How long?”

“I already told you.”

“Liar.”

Satoru pushes the food tray toward you, the arm of the mechanical table brushing against your torso. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

You sigh, the exhaustion of the past few days weighing on you like a heavy, unpleasant rain.

“First of all, you just got back from a mission where you were inches from dying if Shoko hadn’t been there. Second, you refuse to tell me how long it’s been since you’ve eaten — unless it’s been a month — and now you’re saying you’re not hungry?”

Satoru, lying under the pristine white sheets of his infirmary bed, simply turns his head away. It’s as if he’s acting like a machine. 

Mechanical movements, curt responses, and barely any signs of life.

During one of the recent missions assigned to him by Principal Yaga after weeks of absence, Satoru resumed his routine. He sleeps, does his missions, and returns to sleep in his room. Ever since you took the time to clean and organize his room, you haven’t exchanged more than a sentence. The only memory that still haunts you is the blood-red hue of Satoru’s eyes that night in his room.

The void left by Suguru has wreaked havoc.

And while you’ve managed to patch yourself up — or so you think — you’re now trying to help your friend in need. But how do you help someone who refuses to speak?

“And ‘I don’t know’ isn’t an answer,” you add in the face of his silence, rubbing your face, which feels warmer than usual. Perhaps it’s the heat of the room? December is a month where illness comes quickly. But it’s nothing, you reassure yourself.

“You’re flushed.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Both of you avert your gaze, equally annoyed and concerned with one another.

“When was the last time you even slept? You spend more time watching over my sleep and my meals than looking at yourself in a mirror. You look like a Halloween costume.”

Ouch.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror near the nurse’s desk, and despite Satoru’s harsh words, your state seems even worse than his.

You’ve lost weight lately. The dark hollows under your eyes mirror your grueling schedule, where you spend most of your day juggling missions, watching over Satoru, and helping the school with any task.

Like an escape, you’ve found any excuse to avoid being alone. Especially with yourself.

But isn’t that exactly what Suguru did? The poor guy had no one to talk to, and the one time he tried, you thought he was just exhausted from swallowing curses. That was when he broke down and sobbed in front of you.

The memory alone stings your eyes. And unfortunately for you, you’re not in any shape to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You stand abruptly, turning your head away to avoid showing the cracks in your courageous facade to your best friend.

“Eat. I have a mission in half an hour. I’ll be back tonight.”

As you slip out of the infirmary, Satoru painfully sit up in his bed, opening his mouth to call after you, to say something. Anything. His words were harsh and cruel, while you’ve been patient with him, caring for him more than for yourself.

But he hates it.

Because you only remind him of what Suguru used to do. When he felt terrible, Suguru helped him despite his own pain, despite wanting to vomit up the curses he’d consumed or even die. Suguru cared about his appetite, just as you do now with Satoru. The same with his sleep, his recklessness during missions.

So he doesn’t want to lose you, at the risk of dying a second time.

~~~~

That same evening, you don’t return.

And Satoru notices immediately, because at bedtime, around 10 PM, you usually stop by his room — even more so now that he’s in the infirmary.

Missions take time. So Satoru reassures himself, thinking that you simply took longer and that by the next morning, you’d be by his side to check on him. He would apologize. He’d ask for forgiveness and try to understand the reason behind the instability in your voice before you left earlier.

Did he hurt you that much?

His train of thought is interrupted by urgent voices barking orders, and Shoko putting on her apprentice doctor’s coat as she grabs a spell manual on her way out, meeting Satoru’s confused gaze.

And he understands immediately who it’s about.

Despite his still weakened state and his inability to perform Reverse Curse Technique for some time now, Satoru pulls on his exorcist uniform, leaving his sunglasses on the bedside table, and follows Shoko and the team of medics heading toward a school car. But he swiftly grabs Shoko’s wrist.

If something happened to you, taking a stupid car would only lead to a certain death.

With a gaze as panicked as it is void, Satoru questions his friend.

“Mei Mei went to check on what happened,” Shoko murmurs gravely. “The mission was simple. She should’ve been back over five hours ago.” She points to the time on her watch.

1:20 AM.

Did he fall asleep while lost in thought? How had so much time passed since he noticed your absence earlier that night?

“And you think taking more time in this car is enough?” Satoru spits his words, his voice low but echoing nonetheless into the snowy night as flurries begin to fall around them. “Just tell me you want her dead now, then.”

Shoko glances at the waiting car.

“Then what do you suggest?” she asks, narrowing her eyes, scrutinizing her friend from head to toe before yanking her wrist back sharply. “Look at you. You can barely stand.”

“I can still teleport. You’re far more competent than these clowns,” Satoru replies in the same tone, grabbing her wrist again. “And let me remind you, we cannot lose her.” The warning in his voice sounds like a threat.

It’s only when Shoko finally relents that Satoru teleports them both after she gives him the location where Mei Mei last reported finding you. The pressure of the spell makes them feel like they’re being sucked through a narrow tube, or squeezed in a vice. When they finally arrive at your location, it’s with a pop sound, like a bubble bursting free.

Releasing Shoko’s wrist the very second they arrive, Satoru scans the surroundings — then freezes.

Mei Mei’s blue hair is bent over a body on the ground. In the dim light of the night, only the moon’s rays illuminate a pool resembling wine.

And Satoru would’ve prayed for it to be only wine.

He and Shoko rush toward Mei Mei, who steps aside to face them with a furrowed brow, her expression a foreboding omen.

“Internal bleeding,” she announces to Shoko.

The words ring like a gong in Satoru’s ears, now buzzing. His paralyzed body stands mere inches from you. Your half-closed eyes stare blankly into the void, your arms lying limply at your sides, and a streak of dried blood stains your cheek. Despite the presence of your friends, you don’t react.

Not even when Satoru says your name.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And as many times as it takes before Shoko and Mei Mei push him back, as he struggles to try to hold you in his arms, his hoarse voice cracking, begging you not to leave him.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Satoru Gojo, whose senses granted by his Six Eyes had long been dulled, awakens once again.

He hears your heart beating faintly. The pulse of your arteries, the successive waves of blood pushed by your struggling heart. Your shallow breaths slipping through damaged lungs. The warmth of your blood slowly leaking life away.

Please, no…

As long as it took for Satoru to recover a fraction of his powers, the same amount of time seems to pass while Shoko works quickly to stop your hemorrhaging.

He knows because he no longer hears the blood flowing out of your body. Your pulse has slowed, and though still weak, your heart beats with slightly more determination.

That determination, Satoru perceives as a flame.

A flame you refuse to let extinguish, because he knows you’re fighting not to pass on.

And if you no longer have the strength, Satoru will be the lighter forcing you to keep fighting. He will stay by your side as long as you need him.

And he will refuse to die a second time — unless it’s for you.

~~~~

A few days later.

The roles have reversed.

Satoru, fully recovered from his mission for a while now, devotes all his time to your care. He’s moved his belongings to the infirmary, where you remain recuperating. He insisted on pushing a bed right up against yours to monitor your sleep, your eating habits, and your overall well-being. 

Every movement you make is instantly picked up by his Six Eyes.

Your survival after your mission was nothing short of a miracle for Satoru.

A prayer he made — and one that was answered.

“You tired?” he asks softly, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His cerulean eyes linger on your still-fresh bandages, and a bitter pang squeezes at his heart.

You shake your head despite the telltale dark circles under your eyes. “I’m feeling better.”

“Bored?” he guesses then, raising an eyebrow slightly, his tone tinged with amusement. Is he planning something?

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Got something in mind?” you reply, curiosity sparking enough to make you want to laugh genuinely.

Lying beside you in his own infirmary bed pressed against yours, Satoru gently takes your hand in his. He lifts it to chest level, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. “I could put on a movie for us if you’d like…”

“What kind of movie? If you even think about suggesting that cursed Terrifier again, I swear I’ll strang—”

Satoru bursts into laughter at your disgusted expression. His chest shakes with every sound, lifting the weight of any lingering pain in his heart.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the new The Lion King movie,” he says with a mischievous grin.

“Mufasa, you mean?” Your face lights up for a moment. “But the movie has just been released,” you add, frowning slightly. “We can’t go anywhere.”

“Who said anything about going somewhere?” He wraps one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer just before planting a chaste kiss on your temple — a gesture that nearly makes your lungs give out.

Somehow, Satoru always manages to surprise you.

Despite the movie’s exclusive release at cinemas, half an hour later you find yourself watching it. 

Nestled against Satoru under some thicker blankets he brought, the two of you share snacks scattered across your laps. The only light in the infirmary is the soft glow of the film projector casting the movie onto a pristine wall.

Your cheek rests against Satoru’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat serving as the perfect lullaby to lull you to sleep. On top of that, his long fingers gently scratch your scalp, soothing you further into relaxation.

The moment feels so perfect you almost mistake it for a dream — but no.

Right now, it’s as if the depressive haze that had weighed down both you and Satoru has been blown away, replaced by a fleeting moment of happiness wrapped in the cocoon of this night.

Just like your feelings, the situation between you and Satoru is undefined and confusing. A shared closeness restored, mutual personal care, and a clear attachment to each other.

It seems like friendship, doesn’t it?

But then, why does your hand, resting on your friend’s chest, tremble at the thought of sliding around the back of his neck to pull him closer—close enough for your lips to finally meet his?

Feeling your trembling hand, Satoru shifts his attention away from the movie to look down at you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes meet his, drowning in the deep ocean of blue they hold.

With every passing second, you try to speak, to respond, to confess everything. To tell him everything. Yet, with your lips parted, all you can manage is a soft whisper:

“Nothing.”

~~~~

December 25th.

All of Tokyo Jujutsu High has gathered amidst the scents of warm food, the laughter of groups of friends, the unwrapping of gifts, and the feeling of family.

Yet, Satoru feels like something is missing.

This December 25th marks the first Christmas you, Shoko, and Satoru spend without Suguru.

So what’s the point of celebrating? What is Suguru doing right now? Is he spending such a special day all alone?

Alone, outside the school’s festive hall, Satoru stands bundled in a winter coat, snow as white as his hair delicately falling onto his frame. He’s leaning against a wall, as if that simple act could help him stay upright.

His throat tightens.

He wants Suguru back.

But he knows all too well that he won’t have him.

So Satoru doesn’t celebrate Christmas when the one source of his joy has vanished.

Inside the hall, you’re laughing wholeheartedly with a few friends, a glass of champagne in hand and a large scarf draped over your shoulders for warmth.

But amidst the small crowd, the one person who holds your heart is nowhere to be found.

Your smile slowly fades as your eyes frantically scan the room for Satoru. You excuse yourself hastily and begin to search — the hall, the restroom — before finally heading toward the door to the courtyard.

Almost sprinting, you step out into the biting December cold.

And there he is.

With measured steps, you move to stand beside him. He doesn’t budge, even as you gently wipe the dried tears from his face while he sniffles absentmindedly, his nose reddened by the sharp chill.

“Do you believe that he’s thinking of us right now?” Satoru murmurs, his voice rough and low.

“I’m sure of it,” you whisper softly in reply, pulling a tissue from your pocket and holding it to his nose so he can blow. A faint smile tugs at your lips as he thanks you with one last sniffle.

You’re about to put the tissue away when Satoru abruptly but tenderly pulls you into his arms, pressing you firmly against him.

“Satoru?” Your eyes search his, confused, as he leans his face as close to yours as possible, nearly sending your heart into overdrive when his long, slender nose brushes against yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, his tone carrying a small smile.

Those three little words leave you speechless, your lips parted in shock at the confession and the sincerity behind it.

It’s as if your entire being comes alive again, breaking free.

After so long without crying, it only takes those words to bring tears back to the surface. Salty streams trail down your cheeks as your face twists, trying to hold back sobs.

“I love you too,” you cry, your voice trembling all the same.

Satoru, his own smile tinged with fragility, wipes your face just as you did for him. His thumbs gently rub your cheeks in a bittersweet comfort.

And in a synchronized motion, your lips connect, pressing against each other with an intensity that makes your souls whirl like the wind does with the falling snow.

Every time your lips part to end a kiss or catch your breath, you find each other again in the next second, as if eternity had tried to keep you apart. The cold ceases to exist around you; the warmth of your finally united souls is enough to melt the ice that had formed within you since Suguru’s departure.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes no longer shining with tears, but with love this time.

Neither of you pulls away from the closeness you share. Your bodies speak for you, the silence between you filled with mutual understanding.

Satoru clears his throat. “Will you stay with me?”

It’s like a wish waiting to be granted.

“Forever.”

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix @moonlitwitchdaisy

a/n: hello everyone :)) this fic was special to write thh. it’s the one that came out of an episode of impostor syndrome where i just wrote without thinking. i’d been wanting to write angst about satoru for a loooong time, so here it is :) (why do i secretly hope i’ve made all of you cry?). anyway, we can finally breathe after big exams! i’ve never looked forward to the christmas vacations as much as this year, lmao. take care of your little faces <3

reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3

[stellayuta]

The Promiscuous Viscount - Gojo Satoru

A jujutsu kaisen x Bridgerton story

content: mdni 18+, depictions of intercourse, swearing, adultery, multiple partners, angst (lots of it), political marriage trope

word cnt: 3.6k

For the first time in the storied decades of the 'social seasons,' no title had ever felt more destined for him, the most eligible bachelor in the ton. Dearest readers, this season's incomparable diamond was no fair lady but a gentleman of legendary charm. Enter the illustrious Viscount of the famed Gojo family—Satoru Gojo. At twenty-eight, he stood as though sculpted by the gods themselves, with tresses of silky moonlight and eyes that eclipsed even the queen’s most opulent sapphires. When Her Majesty proclaimed him this year’s most eligible, the announcement was met with both astonishment and unanimous approval.

Yet, the perfect equilibrium of things was thwarted when Lord Satoru chose his bride. Whispers filled the grand halls, naming the daughters of Duke Zenin, Viscount Ieiri, and Earl Iori as the likeliest contenders for his favor. These were women of impeccable rank and beauty, often seen basking in his fleeting attention. None could have foreseen the twist of fate when Lord Satoru—known for his roguish courtships—turned his gaze away from noble lineage and crowned you, Y/N L/N, an untitled lady, as his heart's sovereign. With no rank to your name and little knowledge of aristocratic customs, you stood as an unlikely contender in this glittering world of prestige. Yet, your unwavering belief in the possibility of lasting love and your determination to face the enigmatic Viscount was incomparable too.

You stared at the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Time was marching towards 9 PM at a snail's pace. Your new husband's living quarters were by itself larger than your entire shack back in the countryside. This room was made with fine upholstery, and its walls and floors were made of hardy, imported material you had never seen before. A gigantic bed was centered off and leaned against the eastern wall, with its four posters draped in midnight blue fabric.

Prior to the wedding, you were just a guest of the town. The Kugisaki family — the baron and his headstrong yet kind-hearted daughter weren't the most prestigious of families but still, they were nobility. They lived further away from the heart of town and right on the edge of the countryside. You had grown up with their daughter, Nobara, dreaming of finding the perfect man and accomplishing all your dreams along with that. Though Nobara had a stricter checklist, you simply wanted someone who would love you with all their heart. Nobara had promised you that she would take you along when it was time for her debut in the social season. And she kept her promise and the rest is history.

You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you watched the minute hand creep past twelve. It was 9:10 PM. Lord Satoru was late to his own wedding night. The covers that you currently sat on were made of icy blue satin — like your husband's eyes. You had seen your husband up close only once - during the wedding. He was ravishing beyond belief. You had stopped dead in your tracks while walking up to the altar, earning whispers and sneers from the guests. Lord Satoru maintained a cool look. Beside him, you looked much more simpler, much more common. You borrowed one of Nobara’s white dresses — the best fit you could find — a proper wedding gown was completely out of budget afterall. The ceremonies were per custom and the kiss was quick and formal and shorter than you wanted it to be — a simple peck. Maybe — the Lord was saving all the affection for this eve, you thought optimistically. 

The maids and governesses were on high alert post the wedding. They certainly weren’t expecting the bride to be non-aristocratic. They weren’t expecting to teach someone everything from scratch. Anyhow, half a dozen of them stole you post the ceremonies and covered the basics of dining, honorifics, etiquette and what to and what not to expect from my wedding night. They told you it would be enough to survive the night. They told you not to ask the Lord too many questions and try to be genial and compliant. They told you to wait on the bed patiently and not make the first move. You must not make eye contact until the lord speaks first. Then, they undid your braid, brushed your hair straight, unrobed you of your white dress and put you in something pale pink and light, removed the makeup, added makeup, plucked you like a bird being prepared for a feast. But that’s what one does for the sake of love…

You had begun to nod off from the day’s exertion when the door finally opened with a creak. You immediately jolted up and looked around, each hair on your body stood up straight and adrenaline coursed through your body. The snowy haired man entered the room with the quietness of a cat’s footsteps. His blue eyes gleamed like an otherworldly phenomenon even in the dark. He had dressed down into freer, bedtime clothes too. Subconsciously, your knees wanted to come closer to your chest at the sight of him. He neared you with an apprehensive look on his face, nothing you could quite read at an instant. You made your first mistake then, making eye contact and initiating conversation. 

“L-Lord Satoru, I— Please take a seat!” Heat crept up into your cheeks. Who are you to order him around his own house?

He looked slightly puzzled but eventually a small smile made its way up his face. 

“All of this must be new and jarring to you. I apologize.” He says, his voice steady yet soft. 

“Not at all! Why would you apologize!” this time you clamp your hands onto your mouth. In comparison to him you sound so much more brazen.

“The man should apologize first, always. Key to a healthy marriage.” He states, taking a seat beside you on the bed, facing you and using a hand to sway a lock of your hair out of your face. Your breath sways along with his movements. You immediately lower your gaze and scrunch the fabric of your night dress under your balled up fists.

“Nervous?” he asks, leaning in. He is barely a few inches away from you now. Up this close, his eyes look like the ocean — with sparkling and never ending waves. It looks beautiful. Ethereal. Your lips part at the sight. His do too. His white hair is so long and full that it nearly covers his eyes. You have the urge to push it out of the way but you resist the urge. 

You want to hold his handsome face and reprimand him. For not kissing you enough during the wedding ceremony. Right now, your heart’s beating too fast, your brain is working too fast and you could do something very stupid.

“What’s wrong? Did I lose you there?” He blurts out, breaking your trance. 

The moment stretches like a taut string between you, fragile and electric. His breath brushes against your cheek, warm and steady, and you realize just how close he is. Your gaze flickers back to his, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Nervous?” he asks again, but this time, his voice is lower, softer, like he’s testing the waters.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You’re too distracted by the way his thumb, rough but gentle, brushes against your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. The contact sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. His fingers linger for just a moment before retreating, leaving your skin tingling in their wake.

“Your eyes…” you manage to whisper, barely audible even to yourself.

He tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his oceanic gaze. “What about them?”

“They’re…” You hesitate, feeling the heat rise to your face again, but the words spill out anyway. “Beautiful.”

His smile widens, a boyish charm softening the sharp edges of his face. “You’re bold,” he murmurs, the words carrying a hint of amusement, but there’s something else there too—something darker, heavier. “I like that.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as he leans closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. For a moment, you think he might kiss you, and you don’t know if you want to stop him. His hand comes up again, this time brushing against your collarbone, and the simple touch feels like fire.

“You’re trembling,” he notes, his voice a rasp that sends a jolt through you.

“I’m not,” you lie, the words shaky and unconvincing.

“Liar,” he whispers, his lips curling into a smirk that’s both teasing and predatory. His fingers trace a featherlight path up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Do you always wear your heart on your sleeve, Viscountess?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face, steals every coherent thought from your mind. You’re aware of how close you are, of the way the air between you feels charged, like a storm waiting to break.

And then he pulls back, just slightly, enough to give you space to breathe, though the heat of his proximity lingers. His gaze softens, and he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice so tender it makes your chest ache. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?”

You shake your head quickly, your hands clutching the fabric of your nightdress even tighter. “No… It’s just—” You stop, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even begin to articulate the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

He chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and for a moment, you think you see something vulnerable flicker in his eyes. But then he stands, breaking the spell, and you’re left feeling oddly disappointed.

“Things must be confusing for you —” He sighs and you almost want to whine. “Not to worry, leave it up to me!” he grins at you, fist-bumping his chest. “This viscount is a tactful man. He would not touch the lady until she’s ready!”

Huh?

Before you can protest though, he turns to leave.

“W-wait, that’s not what I—”

“Get some sleep tonight, you must be tired. It’s been a long, chaotic day after all. Let it soak in now that you are the viscountess!” and with that declaration, he shuts the giant oak door behind him. 

For a minute, you try to process what just happened. Your husband came in, assumed you weren’t ready to have a wedding night and just left! Where did he go? This is his room after all.

You make yourself get out of his bed and rush to the door and into the hallway to bring him back. 

Well, at least he should sleep in his own bed. Where did he go? You think. There’s so much you want to talk about, so much you want to know about him.

You check out each door in the hallway lined endlessly with doors. The flicker of candlelights casts long shadows, making the air feel heavier. After the tenth door, when you are about to give up, you hear voices. 

A short walk ahead is an ajar door, emitting the yellow glow of a candlelight. You walk toward it, skeptical as the voices become clearer.

“What took you so long!” It's a woman’s voice. 

“I thought you are quicker at resolving sticky situations at this, Lord Gojo. Looks like that isn’t the case.” You hear another woman giggle followed by the abrupt sound of lingering smooch. 

“Oh my!”

“You talk a lot…” this time, it’s a man’s voice. Satoru’s steady voice, which isn’t soft anymore, it’s a bit condescending now. With your heart thrumming against your chest, you take a peek through the gap and your mouth pops wide open. Before you can scream, you slap your hand onto your lips.

Two familiar looking women are lounging lazily on the bed, naked and sweaty. Lord Satoru stands before them, hands on his hips, eyeing them shamelessly. 

You try to get a better look at the women’s faces and sure enough, they are the daughters of the Iori and Ieiri families. What are they doing here? In that state?

“Mmm’ Toru, come already.” Iori whines, extending her arms as her breasts flop about comically. “I can’t believe you’re wedded to that nobody just to give your family a compliant bride. That’s so stupiiiid!” 

“Come, come.” Ieiri lights up a cigar. “Uta here’s been waiting desperately and eating my ears off. Let’s get this started.” She moves her hair off her chest and gingerly sits beside Iori. 

“You nasty girls.” Lord Satoru snickers, taking both their faces in each of his large hands. He begins to derobe himself before you close your eyes shut tight and break into a run.

You don’t want to see any of this. You don’t want to hear any of it. You just want to go far, far away.

You run blindly down the hallway, your footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Your chest tightens, a bitter cocktail of anger, shame, and humiliation swirling inside you. Of course, it was all a game to him. A political maneuver. A compliant bride. The words sting, sharper than they should.

Why did you believe, even for a moment, that someone like him could see you as more than a pawn? A viscount picking a nobody — it was never about love or even mutual respect. Your legs burn as you push yourself faster, desperate to outrun the image etched into your mind: his laughter, their mocking gazes, the way he had touched them so freely.

So he was buying time for them, telling you to wait until you were ready. 

Lies. 

You burst into the first room you see, far away from that rotten place. It seems like a dusty storage — filled with old furniture and cabinets. You slump down into one of the creaky chairs and throw your face into your hands. 

What now? What happens now? It hasn’t even been a day.

What about your dreams? What are you going to tell your family? Nobara?

A sharp knock at the door jolts you from your spiraling thoughts. You freeze, gripping the armrests of the chair like a lifeline. Who could it be? No one should know you’re here—not in this forgotten corner of the estate.

Another knock, softer this time, yet no less unnerving. “May I come in?” a voice calls out. It’s low, smooth, and completely unfamiliar.

You don’t answer immediately, your heart pounding in your ears. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone in the household staff, nor could it be one of the viscount’s guests. And yet, it’s calm, deliberate, and impossibly steady, as if it knew you’d respond eventually.

“Who are you?” you finally manage, your voice sharp despite the tremor in it.

A pause. Then the voice replies, “Yuta.”

That doesn’t help. You rack your brain for any connection to the name, but nothing comes to mind. The name is ordinary, the tone unsettlingly confident. A shiver runs down your spine. What business could someone like this have with you?

Before you can decide whether to tell them to go away, the door creaks open slightly. Instinctively, you press back into the chair, your breath catching.

The man who steps inside is cloaked in shadow, his face dimly lit by the faint moonlight streaming through a small window. He’s tall and unassuming, dressed in simple but well-made clothes that bear no insignia, no hint of rank or allegiance. There’s no reason he should be here—no reason he could be here.

“How did you get in?” you demand, your voice more forceful than you feel. You rise to your feet, keeping the chair between you and him. “This estate is guarded.”

“I have my ways,” he says cryptically. His eyes, calm and hollow, meet yours. “I mean no harm.”

“Why are you here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “What do you want?”

“To speak,” he replies simply, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t come closer, instead leaning against the wall as if to give you space. “And to offer a warning.”

“A warning?” Your stomach twists. “About what?”

“About your husband,” he says, the words sharp but measured. “And about what kind of man he truly is.”

His words cut through the air like a blade. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap, though the tremor in your voice betrays your uncertainty. “You’re trespassing. Get out.”

“Could you say that after that erotic scene you just saw?” He presses and leans in.

“Do you wish to go back and see it through to the end?”

“What the hell?!” you jerk away from him.

“Apologies,” he says, raising his hands slightly, almost mockingly. “Perhaps my words were harsh. But they were honest.”

You grip the edge of the chair to steady yourself, your anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Honest?” you scoff. “You don’t even know me, or my husband. You have no right—”

“I know enough,” he cuts in smoothly, his voice low but firm. “I know what kind of man he is. I know what kind of man hides behind charm and power.” His gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. “And I know what you saw tonight wasn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Listen carefully and don’t overreact.” he says as a precaution. What could he possibly say— 

“Leave this estate and that man. Come with me as the duchess.”

The next morning you wake up with the worst headache imaginable. Daybreak is just on the horizon and the birds have started chirping their songs. Your eyes hurt and your cheeks are still stained with tracks of tears. The icy blue satin has snaked its way around your legs and waist, imprisoning you to the bed. What a metaphor. 

You somehow prop yourself up and take a look around the room. Maybe what you saw was a bad dream. Maybe none of it happened and it was all nerves. You hallucinated the worst because of your disbelief at marrying Lord Satoru. 

Your memory feels so blurry and the headache is so strong, it is painful to even think.

Right then, the door to the attached bath opens and out walks a figure with snowy hair dripping with water.

The sight jolts you upright, your heart pounding in your chest. He steps into the soft light filtering through the curtains, revealing Lord Satoru in nothing but loose, low-slung trousers. Droplets of water slide down his toned chest, glistening in the pale morning glow, and for a moment, you can’t look away.

“Morning,” he says casually, running a hand through his damp hair, sending more droplets cascading down his neck. His voice is warm and unhurried, as if the chaos of the previous night hadn’t happened at all.

You blink rapidly, the haze of sleep and confusion battling the vividness of this moment. Was this real? Was he real?

“Y-you’re…” you stammer, clutching the edge of the blanket as if it might shield you from the sheer intensity of his presence.

“Alive and well, if that’s what you’re wondering.” His grin is easy, teasing, but his eyes sharpen as they meet yours. “Though I can’t say the same for you. You look like you’ve been wrestling demons all night.”

You look away, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice brittle.

“Viscountess—” Satoru purrs, bending down to meet your eyes, he shakes his head playfully to shower droplets of water onto you, making you hide your face in your palms. 

“Rule number one as the lady-head of this house.” He says, sticking up one long finger and poking your nose with it. “You tell me everything that’s bothering you. I’m the number one person you can trust!”

He smiles gleefully and it makes you want to frown. Why does he want to convince you so bad. It hurts. He could come clean and you would have no power to do anything. 

He does seem to notice your inner conflict and raises your chin to meet his blue eyes. 

“Is something bothering you?” His question is straightforward but his glare seems to be burning holes into your being. 

Yes. You were fucking two women behind my back. Committing adultery. That’s what’s bothering me. You think.

And then almost as if he could read your mind, he swoops down and places his soft lips onto yours. You come as close to cardiac arrest as possible. Eyes wide open like saucers, you cling onto his bare shoulders, begging for air. This only makes him melt into the kiss deeper, he encircles your waist and pulls you closer to him, snaking his way up your back and onto your shoulders, trying to pull your flimsy sleeves off. 

You manage to barely escape from the kiss, with your lower lip still stuck between his teeth. He looks up at you, feral, from underneath his white, misty lashes. 

“L-L-Lord Sa-Satoru. What are—”

“First of all, no lords and sirs. It’s just Satoru to you.” he states, finally letting go of your lip that recoils back into its place, bruised and swollen. 

“B-but, Lord Sa—”

Before you can finish, he’s now onto your neck, kissing, biting and licking at the flesh. He climbs onto the bed, lifting you slightly and placing you on his lap for better position, both of your thighs circling his waist. Any reasonable stream of thoughts is drowned out by his onslaught.

“Satoru, what’s gotten into you?” you ask finally before he can go south from your cleavage. 

“Isn’t that what it is?” He cocks his head to the side and you do too. “... you felt bad that we didn’t have a wedding night. So we’re having one now!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you try pushing him away. “My governess could come in any minute.” 

“They know better than to burst in when the viscount is in the room, my dear.” He states, stealing another peck from your lips, attempting to catch your lower lip again before you purse them for good. 

For a second there, no words are exchanged and the two of you just stare at each other. 

Is there a possibility that whatever happened yesterday was just a dream? 

There’s this weird scratch you feel on your back that you can’t seem to get rid off or tolerate anymore. 

“Excuse me —” you say, getting off of him and heading to the bath.

When you lift up your skirt a crumpled piece of paper pops out.

You lift it up and inspect it, opening it up and smoothing it out against the marble counter.

“Don't trust him. My offer still stands. 

— Y” 

You swallow hard.

It was no dream.

to be continued......

a/n: like reblog and comment to show some love and support!

[gojonanami]

content: drunk!gojo, clingy gojo, infinity acting up, pre-established relationship, down bad for you, mentions of having kids, poor Ijichi

“Hic— where’s my wife?”

You rub your temples, as you watch your husband whine, “how much did you let him drink?”

“Let him? He was a force of his own, he—“ Ijichi cuts off when he sees your glare, balking as he panics, she’s even scarier than Gojo when she’s mad! “I’m so sorry!”

You shake your head, “it’s fine, Ijichi,” and he scurried away quickly, leaving you with your very inebriated husband. The one who had drank one sip of alcohol too many and was probably liable to misfire a hollow purple any second, “Satoru,”

You approached him and were met with the resistance of his infinity, as he sat slumped over on the booth table, “Satoru, put down your infinity—“

“No,”

“Satoru, come on, you have to stop or I can’t take you home,” and he’s shaking his head, cheeks flushed.

“No, I mean I don’t know how to,” he sighs, “the infinity is all messed up, I can’t do it,” he rubs his eyes, and you’re sighing again.

“It’s just because of the alcohol, Toru,” you sit beside him, “you can do it

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, dead weight on his two feet, as he pulled you even closer, cheeks flushed and warm from the alcohol, “why didn’t you come? You told me you were gonna pick me up,”

“No, I didn’t, you said Ijichi was going to—“ you manage to say before he’s whipping his head up, eyes sparking with blue, but lips curled in a pout, as if he wasn’t two seconds from obliterating you and the entire block.

“Do you hate me?” And his eyes nearly glow in the dark of the night, infinity flickering as you drew closer, “do you not want me to have your kids?”

Your hand finally reaches him, as you are the only one who can pierce through his defenses, “first of all l, I would be the one having your kids, weirdo,” your fingers cup his cheek, thumbing away his tears, “and how could I ever hate my husband?”

He blinks at you, “You’re married?” And you have to bite back your laugh at his affronted expression, “to who? I’ll hollow purple them!”

You snort, “Well he has light hair, blue eyes, and is drunk off his ass,”

He blinks, furrowing his brow, “Nanami?” And you laugh, before kissing him hard. You can taste the alcohol on his lips still, mixed with the aftertaste of sugar and chocolate he had at the bar most likely.

“Get it now?” And he grins, nodding, as he hangs all over you as you get him into the car with you, leaning against you as you drive home.

“So you’re gonna leave your husband for me?”

“…I might, if you ever drink again.”

[fushitoru]

the season of thorned roses ⸺ a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies

notes from the author: im aashi, and this is my first series on this app :p for anyone who would like to know, this does end with a happy ending. ty for reading!

masterlist | drabble | fanart

chapter index

01 ⸺ the debutante

you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

02 ⸺ the aftermath

after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

03 ⸺ the manor

you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

04 ⸺ the game

satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

05 ⸺ the fall

gojo comes up with a strange yet tempting arrangement, but the accident that follows it may cause epiphanies for the both of you. (11.8k)

06 ⸺ the house party

you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton. (7.4k)

07 ⸺ the rebound

after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

08 ⸺ the lake

both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

09 ⸺ the embers (soon!)

drabbles/headcanons

01 ⸺ gojo walking in on geto at a brothel (nsfw, not canon)

02 ⸺ gojo when you're pregnant

03 ⸺ more on geto!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue. 

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders. 

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied. 

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you. 

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come. 

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed. 

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too. 

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that. 

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes. 

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict. 

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day. 

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly. 

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.” 

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them. 

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute. 

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together. 

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path. 

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy. 

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side. 

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds. 

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place. 

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add. 

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one. 

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight. 

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too. 

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his. 

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too. 

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it. 

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around. 

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight. 

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason. 

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion. 

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now. 

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt. 

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm. 

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face. 

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.” 

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat. 

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you. 

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days. 

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world. 

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore. 

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet. 

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry. 

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

.

.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

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[colonelarr0w]

Everything was perfect. 

"You may kiss the bride." 

Your rosy lips turn upward in a lovesick smile, arms lifting to wrap around Gojo's neck and bring his face closer to yours, the tips of your noses brushing against one another as his arms loop around your waist. With one hand, he holds your waist, and with the other, he slowly begins to lift your leg, hooking it over his hip and dipping you down.  

You let out a tearful giggle, the sound mixing with Gojo's chuckle as he slots his lips against yours, pouring years of love and adoration into a singular kiss. You squeeze your arms around him to steady yourself, smiling against his lips as they move against your own.  

You pull back from him just as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, no doubt wanting to shamelessly make out with you in front of an audience. But with your family sitting somewhere in the crowd, one of you had to demonstrate self-control.  

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Gojo," Gojo whispers, his breath fanning over your lips as he continues to hold you close. You dive forward, pecking his lips again. He smiles at you, tearful aquamarine eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares down at you; his little wife. 

Everything was perfect. 

"I'm home!" Gojo announces as he kicks his shoes off, turning his body halfway to close the front door and peering around the dim-lighted living room. His eyebrows furrow, arms slapping against his sides as he realizes that you're not running to him to embrace him.  

Slowly, he walks further into the house, curiously peering into the kitchen only to be met with the sight of nothing. Worry sinks into his chest, but he doesn't allow himself to get worked up just yet.  

"Honey?" Gojo's voice is a quiet whisper as he enters the living room, eyes met with a heartwarming sight; you're sat in the center of the couch, arms wound around a sleeping Megumi. The boy leans impossibly further into your side, his head tucked comfortably into the crook of your neck with his body splayed over your own like a weighted blanket.  

His lips turn upward in a soft smile, hand reaching for his phone to photograph the moment and commit it to memory. But just as his fingers brush his phone, something tells him to instead live in the moment as opposed to capturing it.  

Gojo moves to kneel silently beside the couch, reaching out his index finger and lovingly stroking it against your cheek, smiling to himself as your nose scrunches up and you stir slightly. Those eyes that he could spend hours gazing into flutter open, a sleepy smile curling the corners of your lips upward.  

"Hi 'Toru," you whisper, yawning.  

"Hi pretty girl." 

Everything was perfect. 

"Satoru Gojo!" 

Gojo pauses, every bone in his body stilling as he slowly turns to look over his shoulder, swallowing his pride (and dignity) as you stomp over, Megumi not far behind. Gojo glances quickly at Yuuji and Nobara, silently asking them for help – but immediately the two first-years look around, not wanting to stand in the way of your wrath.  

"Hey honey," Gojo says with a smile, already feeling sweat build up against his forehead as you grow closer, eyes flaring with an anger that he had only ever seen once before – and honestly, he had no idea how he had even survived. "What's – uh – what's going on?" 

"What's going on?! You mean to tell me that you're going to stand there and act like nothing is wrong?" Your voice raises an octave or two in volume, making Gojo cringe and shrink in on himself. It was almost entertaining, really. Watching the 6'3 Special Grade Sorcerer be reduced to a shaking mess at the sight of his angered wife.  

Gojo remains silent, not wanting to respond in the fear that you would bite his head off.  

The staring contest between yourself and Gojo is tense, only made worse by the other pairs of eyes that watch quietly from the sidelines.  

Yuuji shifts closer to Megumi, craning his neck just low enough to whisper into his ear, "What's going on?" 

Megumi only smirks, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest. "He ate her leftovers last night." 

Everything was perfect... 

"I understand that your work is important, but you're barely home anymore," you say desperately, closing Megumi's bedroom door and turning on your heel to glance at Gojo. He rubs his hands against his face, skin catching the groan that falls from his lips. 

"I can't just say no to what the higher-ups want me to do, honey. You know that," Gojo responds, not failing to notice how your teeth catch your bottom lip, roughly biting down into the supple skin.  

"You have a family here 'Toru. Your missions are getting more and more dangerous and I – I don't want to be sitting on the couch one day and you just," you pause to swallow the growing lump in your throat, "don't come home." 

Gojo softens, his heart hammering in his chest as he stares silently down at you. Your eyes shine with tears, tears that he desperately wants to reach out and brush away – but something inside of him tells him not to.  

"Megumi needs you here. Hell, I need you here," you say desperately, laying a palm flat against your chest as you step forward to close the distance between yourself and Gojo.  

Something inside you damn near breaks as your husband takes a step back from you.  

"I know. Trust me I know. But there's only so much I can do. They need me (Y/N)," Gojo says. Immediately – the moment that those words fall from his lips – he wishes that he could fucking swallow them.  

You freeze, body standing rigid as your eyes blankly stare at him. Any ounce of emotion, anything that might have made you human is suddenly gone, replaced instead by a robotic stare that chills Gojo down to his very core. 

Silently, you brush past him, shoulder knocking against his chest as you walk down the hallway and vanish into the living room. Gojo stares after you, turning his head towards Megumi's door and screwing his eyes shut – fuck.  

Everything was perfect...? 

"Megumi! Have you seen your mother?" Gojo asks, waving his hand wildly in the air as the raven-haired teenager turns to glance at him, raising an eyebrow in both annoyance and curiosity.  

"She just went out on a field mission, why?" 

Gojo's heart sinks, body deflating as he pockets the necklace that he had planned to give you; a heart locket with a picture from your wedding day inside of it. Megumi watches his adoptive father's shaking hands, and a pang of curiosity flows through his body, but he makes no mention of it.  

"Oh, no reason. I just wanted to give her something," Gojo answers dismissively, waving his hand at Megumi before he lets out a disappointed sigh.  

Everything was perfect? 

"I understand, I'll tell Shoko to prepare a bed now," Ichiji says with a swift nod, though it doesn't go unnoticed how he swallows the lump in his throat. He removes the phone from his ear, pressing down on its red "hang-up" button and stowing the device away in his pocket.  

Curiously, Gojo peers at the assistant manager through his blindfold, tilting his head curiously as the younger man stands from his seat, beelining for the door and disappearing into the hallway.  

The snowy-haired male stands, following closely behind Ichiji and watching as the man's back tenses, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists. What the fuck was going on? 

His breath catches in his throat as he enters the infirmary. One of the tables is occupied, the body covered by a thin white tarp that's stained with the blood of whoever lies underneath.  

Ichiji glances at Shoko, who only stares down at the stained tarp with a numb glint to her eyes. Her hand extends, fingers wrapping over the top of the tarp and lowering it to reveal who lies beneath.  

Gojo's stomach turns.  

Was everything perfect? 

[chosok-amo]

GENTLE LOVE : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

wc. 8,9k | m.list

it was almost midnight when you found yourself grumbling under your breath, cursing your two upperclassmen for dragging you into this late-night escapade. you tugged at the hem of your hello kitty pink pajamas, the fabric flapping slightly in the cool breeze that swept through the empty park. your hair, loose and free, danced in the wind as you shivered, regretting not grabbing a jacket on your way out.

the park was eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows from the trees onto the pathway. as you trudged along, your slippers making soft thuds on the pavement, you finally spotted them: gojo and geto, casually lounging like it wasn’t nearing the early hours of the morning.

gojo, still dressed in his uniform, was sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone in hand, his legs stretched out in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. his bright white hair practically glowed under the dim park lights, a stark contrast to the dark surroundings. next to him, geto stood with his usual calm demeanor, already changed into his comfortable, oversized attire—a black sweatshirt and sweatpants. he had an ice cream cone of his own, and a plastic bag dangled from his wrist, likely filled with more midnight snacks they somehow thought were worth dragging you out here for.

you approached them, your face scrunched in annoyance. “you idiots do realize it's almost midnight, right?” you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your irritation despite the amusing sight of the two of them indulging in ice cream as if they were on a casual afternoon outing.

“of course we do,” gojo responded nonchalantly, licking his ice cream and ignoring your glare before gesturing to the empty space beside him, “come sit down and stop complaining already.”

geto chimed in, a sly smile playing at his lips as he took a bite from his own ice cream. “don't be such a buzzkill. you're here now, might as well enjoy the night air with us.” you had barely taken a seat on the bench when gojo's grin widened, his eyes raking over your hello kitty pink pajamas. he tried to stifle a laugh, but it quickly burst out, echoing through the quiet park. “seriously? hello kitty? aren’t you a little old for that?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he nudged you playfully with his elbow.

geto chuckled as well, eyeing your pajamas. “gotta admit it's pretty adorable, though.”

gojo leaned in closer, still grinning. “aww, look at you, all cozy in your kitty jammies,” he teased, pinching the fabric at your shoulder between his fingers, “you look like you should be tucked in bed and not out here with us.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head as he eyed your outfit with an amused smirk. “i thought you’d come out in something at least a little more... you know, grown-up,” he added, his voice calm but clearly entertained. “i mean, it’s cute, but definitely not what i expected from you.”

you glared at them both, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “well, excuse me for not having a runway-worthy wardrobe at midnight,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “at least i’m dressed for comfort, unlike someone who’s still in his uniform,” you added, shooting a pointed look at gojo.

gojo chuckled, patting the edge of his uniform blazer. “hey, don't hate on my style. this uniform's part of my charm.” geto leaned back against the backrest after he was taking a sit, still wearing that smirking. “more like a part of your ego,” he quipped, earning a roll of the eyes from gojo.

“oh, shut up,” gojo retorted, returning his full attention to you. “besides, you're the one who couldn't be bothered to change out of those baby pajamas.”

geto snorted at gojo’s remark, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “isn’t it past your bedtime already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully as he glanced at you. you shot him a sassy look, crossing your arms and giving him a mock glare. “oh, please,” you retorted. “like you’re one to talk about bedtime. you’re the one hanging out in oversized sweatpants like a toddler, what are you? 2? at least my pajamas are cute.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head at your response. “touché,” he admitted, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. gojo snickered, watching the banter between you two with amusement. then he turned his smirk towards you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “you know, speaking of toddlers, with those cute little jammies, you're practically begging for a bedtime story.”

he leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on the cartoon kitties printed on your pjs, “you want us to tuck you in and read you a goodnight tale?” you groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes so hard you nearly gave yourself a headache. “oh, for the love of—stop it already,” you grumbled, standing up from the bench and making a show of sulking.

you started to walk back toward the dorm, but gojo was quick to act. He leaped up and blocked your path, a playful grin still plastered on his face. “oh no, you don’t,” he said, holding out his hand to gently stop you. “we’re not letting you escape this easily.”

geto chuckled as he didn't move an inch, watching the scene unfold with amusement. “come on, don’t be like that. we’re just having fun.” gojo's hand on your shoulder was firm, his grip gentle but preventing you from escaping. his smirk widened as he watched you pout with annoyance. “yeah, where do you think you're going? we didn't drag you out here to ditch us now.”

geto chimed in, still slouching on the bench. “you're stuck with us for a while still. so sit back down and enjoy the night. or are you just gonna sulk all night?” you groaned loudly, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “ugh, so annoying,” you muttered under your breath, stomping your feet as you turned back toward the bench.

gojo chuckled, satisfied that you were returning to the bench. he took his place beside you again, his arm casually slung over the backrest.

“see, that's a good girl,” he teased, his smirk widening, “no need to throw a tantrum.” geto rolled his eyes at his comment but still had that smirk on his face. “yeah, don't be such a drama queen,” he chimed in, enjoying the moment. gojo’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he held out his ice cream to you. “here, have some more,” he said, his tone a bit more soothing. “it’ll help with that attitude of yours.”

geto followed suit, handing you his ice cream with a playful grin. “yeah, we don’t want you sulking the whole night. we’re just here to have a good time,” he added, leaning back and clearly enjoying your reactions.

you took the ice cream from them, feeling a bit of the tension ease away as you accepted their offering. “alright, alright,” you said, though your annoyance had already started to melt away. “i’ll take the ice cream. just stop with the teasing for a bit.” both of them exchanged amused glances, their grins not fading. “deal,” gojo said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “now, let’s just enjoy the night.”

you took a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness helping to calm your irritation. despite their constant teasing, you found yourself smiling, realizing that, for all their antics, they really did make these late-night outings enjoyable.

gojo and geto exchanged a satisfied look as they saw your mood gradually improving. watching your expression soften with each bite of the ice cream was like a victory for them.

“see, we knew the sweet stuff would mellow you out,” gojo commented, a smug smile playing at his lips. geto chuckled, nodding, “yeah, nothing like some ice cream to chase away the grumpy mood.” he leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “we've still got some snacks left, though. want something else?”

you took another bite of the ice cream, feeling your mood continue to improve. with a contented sigh, you looked at geto and shook your head. “i’m okay for now,” you said, offering them a small smile. “i’ll take the snacks later.”

as you continued eating your ice cream, you felt geto’s fingers gently run through the back of your hair, combing through it with a tender touch. the sensation was soothing, and you couldn’t help but notice how often they found little ways to be physically close to you, even if it was just a gentle touch.

you glanced at geto, his eyes soft as he focused on the simple gesture. you had come to realize over the past months that this was their way of staying connected—always finding subtle ways to show affection without overstepping any boundaries.

gojo saw the tender moment between you and geto, his hand in your hair, and he felt a pang of jealousy. he knew geto had always been more openly affectionate, but he didn't want to be left out.

without a word, he scooted closer to you on the bench, his thigh touching yours. he leaned in, invading your personal space, and feigned a shiver. “god, it's cold tonight,” he commented, his voice taking on a mocking tone, “you think i could share some of your warmth, princess? it's freezing.”

“you guys really are touch-starved, huh?” you commented with a soft chuckle, your tone light but acknowledging the need you’d noticed. geto smiled, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “just a bit,” he admitted, looking content. “it’s nice to be close to you. we don’t get to do this often enough.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through you. “well, as long as it’s not too overwhelming, i guess i can handle it,” you said, leaning into his touch and letting yourself relax a bit more.

gojo let out a mock gasp of offense, his smirk not fading. “did you just call us touch-starved?” he feigned a pout, raising an eyebrow, “we're not that desperate, are we?”

despite his protests, he was secretly enjoying the fact that you were acknowledging their fondness for physical touch. he leaned even closer to you, his body pressing against yours, “oh come on, admit it. you love the attention.”

you raised an eyebrow, giving gojo a sarcastic look. “love the attention? from constantly getting surrounded by a couple of giant babies? not really,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock exasperation.

gojo feigned a look of shock, clutching a hand to his chest. “oh, wounded,” he dramatically exclaimed, a smirk still on his face. “we're not babies! we're just, you know, physically affectionate.”

geto chuckled at the exchange, his hand continuing its gentle stroking through your hair, “yeah, we can't help it if we crave your company. you're like our walking, talking stress reliever.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face as you looked at geto. “so, am i doing a good job as your walking, talking stress reliever?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

geto’s eyes met yours with a soft, appreciative smile. “oh, absolutely,” he said, his hand continuing its gentle movement through your hair. “you’re perfect at it. couldn’t ask for a better stress reliever.” gojo rolled his eyes dramatically at geto's response. “oh, come on,” he interjected, a playful pout on his lips. “don't hog all the credit. i'm a pretty fantastic stress reliever too, you know.”

he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him and away from geto. “can't have you getting too attached to just one of us.” you let out an exaggerated groan and rolled your eyes. “oh, please, don’t get all cringe-worthy now,” you said, wrinkling your nose as gojo pulled you closer.

you nudged him playfully, still shaking your head. “if you guys are going to use me as your personal stress reliever, you should start sending me some money for my services,” you added with a teasing grin. gojo laughed at your response, his arm still around your shoulder. “oh, so now you want monetary compensation for being our stress relief toy? how much do you want?”

geto, not wanting to be left out, chimed in, “yeah, name your price. we're willing to pay top dollar for your services.” you squinted at them, giving them a bemused look. “why do you guys talk like i’m some kind of hooker?” you asked, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

gojo's smirk widened, “who said anything about hookers? we're just talking about your value as a stress reliever.”

geto chimed in, his tone playful, “yeah, you're priceless, you know. we'd pay a fortune to keep you around.” you gave them a disgusted look, shaking your head. “i swear, everything that comes out of your mouths sometimes sounds so inappropriate,” you said, your tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement. gojo chuckled at your disapproving look. “hey, blame it on our naturally filthy minds. it's just who we are.”

geto grinned, his hand finally leaving your hair, “yeah, you know you love it. deep down, you probably find it entertaining.” you rolled your eyes, reaching over to smack the back of their heads. “assholes,” you muttered, your tone more playful than serious.

after spending some time at the park, you thought the night was coming to a peaceful close, but gojo and geto had other plans. they’d decided, on a whim, to drag you out for a midnight hike up a nearby hill—while you were still in your pajamas.

you trudged up the path, feeling the chilly night air against your skin, your pajamas doing little to keep you warm. “this is my life now,” you complained dramatically, “i’ve climbed this hill, and now i’ll die upon it!”

gojo, leading the way, glanced back with an amused smirk. “shut up, we’ve only been hiking for five minutes,” he shot back, clearly entertained by your theatrics.

“yeah, quit your whining,” geto added from behind, his soft chuckle barely audible over the sound of your footsteps. “it’s not even that far, and you’re doing great.”

you shot a look back at geto, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “seriously, though? dragging me out here in the middle of the night when i’m in pajamas? you two are insufferable.”

gojo turned around, walking backward with a grin. “come on, it’ll be worth it. the view from the top is amazing. just a little bit more.” with a dramatic sigh, you kept trudging along, determined not to let them have the satisfaction of seeing you give up. “fine, fine. but i’m holding you both responsible for my inevitable suffering.”

geto’s laughter echoed in the cool night air as he followed closely behind you. “deal. just keep going, and you’ll see it was worth it.” the night stretched on as you climbed higher, and despite your grumbling, there was a sense of quiet camaraderie in the air. it was the kind of absurd adventure that you’d look back on with a smile—though for now, the thought of your warm bed seemed like the true peak of the night.

gojo continued to lead the way, his pace steady and his spirits high. each step up the hill seemed to fuel his energy. “come on, princess, don't complain so much. you're still in your adorable hello kitty pajamas.”

geto was right behind you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your dramatic behavior, “yeah, just a little bit further. you can do it. we promise it'll be worth it.” you felt their hands tighten around yours, and you glanced at them with a sarcastic smile. “oh, wonderful, i’m being supported by the world’s most enthusiastic hill-climbers,” you said, your tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. “just what i needed.”

gojo’s grin widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. “see? we’re not so bad. we just want to make sure you’re okay.” geto chuckled at your sarcastic remark, “yeah, we're just being helpful guides on your little midnight adventure. think of us as your personal sherpas.”

gojo chimed in, his tone was light and playful, “and hey, you gotta admit, we're pretty great company. who else would drag you out on a hill climb like this?” you rolled your eyes, giving them an annoyed look. “personal sherpas, huh? more like personal tormentors,” you said, shaking your head. “and yeah, i guess I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else crazy enough to drag me out in pajamas for a midnight hike.”

gojo chuckled at your exasperated expression. “hey, we prefer the term 'enthusiastic adventure planners' as for the pajamas, well, we think they're just adding to the hiking experience.” geto chimed in with a cheeky smile, “yeah, you look adorable in your hello kitty jammies, even if they're not exactly hiking-appropriate.”

once the three of you reached the top of the hill, you looked out at the city lights spread before you. with your hands on your hips, you turned to look at gojo and geto, who were both smiling at the view with evident satisfaction.

you couldn’t help but frown as you took in the sight. with a dramatic sigh, you smacked both of their chests. “the view is shit,” you complained, shaking your head. “i climbed all the way up here for this?” gojo let out an exaggerated gasp, pretending to be wounded by your complaint. “hey, we worked hard to drag your whining ass up here.”

geto chuckled, looking amused at your response. “yeah, and you’re supposed to appreciate the view, not just complain about it.” you rolled your eyes dramatically, crossing your arms. “oh, yeah, appreciate the view,” you said sarcastically. “the city lights are just so dull. and let’s not forget, it’s freezing up here.”

you shivered slightly, adding with a mock shiver, “i’m practically turning into an ice sculpture. so, thanks for that, too.” gojo chuckled at your constant complaints. “man, you really are a master of complaining, aren't you? the view isn't dull, it's just not exciting enough for your high standards."

geto chimed in, still amused by your dramatic responses. “yeah, and it's not even that cold. grow some thicker skin, princess.” you turned to geto with a raised eyebrow. “oh, yeah? how about you be a gentleman and give me your sweatshirt, then?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

geto chuckled at your demand, raising an eyebrow as well. “oh, so now you're using your feminine wiles to try and get your way, huh?” gojo chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the exchange, “yeah, playing the damsel in distress, all shivering and cute.”

you grumbled, clearly annoyed by their teasing. “useless,” you muttered under your breath as you sat down on the grass, your feet aching from the climb. gojo and geto exchanged amused glances, watching as you took a seat without saying anything more.

gojo chuckled, his eyes watching you closely as you sat down. “oh, look, the complaining princess has finally decided to take a break.” geto smirked, looking down at you as you sat on the grass, “yeah, those cute little feet got tired, huh?” you pouted, giving them both a look of exaggerated exasperation. “it hurts,” you admitted, rubbing your feet slightly, “and it’s not exactly comfortable up here, you know.”

gojo kneeled down beside you, pretending to be sympathetic, “oh, poor princess, your dainty feet can't handle a little bit of cold grass.” geto chuckled, sitting down next to you as well. “yeah, this isn't exactly the luxury penthouse you're used to, huh?”

you continued to pout, rubbing your ankle with a slight wince, refusing to respond to their teasing. gojo and geto exchanged a look, their playful expressions softening as they watched you, the usual mischief in their eyes replaced by something more gentle.

“alright, alright,” gojo finally said, letting out a small laugh. “we’re sorry, princess. didn’t mean to push you too hard.” geto sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips as he shrugged off his sweatshirt. “here,” he said, draping it over your shoulders. “was planning to give it to you anyway, just had to get my teasing in first.”

you glanced up at him, your pout easing slightly as you pulled the sweatshirt closer around you. it was warm, and you could smell geto’s familiar scent, which made you feel a little better. “thanks,” you mumbled, still sulking a bit but grateful nonetheless. “see?” gojo grinned, leaning in closer. “we’re not completely useless, right?”

geto nudged your side gently. “and we’ll make it up to you. promise.” you let out a small, reluctant laugh, their warmth and light-heartedness slowly melting away your annoyance. “so annoying,” you murmur with a small smile on your face.

gojo chuckled at your grumbled response, his smile growing wider. “yeah, we're pretty damn annoying, but you love us for it.” geto watched you as you pulled his sweatshirt tighter around you, a soft expression on his face. he reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “see? being annoying has its perks, doesn't it?” gojo leaned in closer, his expression mischievous, “yeah, our annoyingness comes with a side of pretty damn good rewards, princess.”

as you sat there, wrapped in geto's sweatshirt and surrounded by their annoying but loveable presence, the three of you settled into a comfortable silence. the city lights continued to glimmer in the distance, and the cool night air carried a hint of chill.

gojo and geto sat on either side of you, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. they watched you intently, waiting to see if your sulky demeanor would give way entirely. you let out a small sigh, deciding to just give in to the moment. without a word, you shifted and lay back on the grass, eyes fixed on the sky above. the cool blades tickled your skin through geto’s sweatshirt, but it was oddly comforting.

the city lights below seemed less dull from this angle, mingling with the stars in a quiet, understated way. it wasn’t exactly the grand view you expected, but maybe that was okay. gojo glanced down at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “getting comfy?” he teased lightly, though there was a warmth in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

geto followed suit, stretching out beside you on the grass, his arm brushing against yours, “see? not so bad when you relax a little, huh?” you didn’t bother responding, just stared up at the sky, feeling their presence beside you. maybe they were annoying, but moments like this made it worth it. without looking at them, you let the silence speak for itself, a faint hint of a smile playing on your lips.

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions replaced with ones of fond amusement. they knew they had broken through your initial annoyance, and now they were just enjoying this quiet moment with you.

lying on either side of you, they followed your gaze upward, looking at the stars shining above. the city lights in the distance provided a soft, ambient glow, adding to the peaceful atmosphere. after a moment, gojo chuckled softly, reaching out to playfully poke your side, “you're quiet. that either means you're still annoyed, or you're actually enjoying this.”

you felt geto's arm gently lift your head, and you didn’t resist as he slipped it under, letting it serve as a makeshift pillow. it was warm and oddly comforting, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

you turned your head slightly to glance at gojo, still pouting a little but softened by the quiet peace of the moment. “i mean, it's not the worst,” you admitted, your voice carrying a playful hint of reluctance, “i guess this is... kinda nice.”

gojo grinned, his finger still poking at your side, “i knew you'd come around. you just needed some convincing.” geto chuckled softly, his arm shifting a bit to make sure you were comfortable. “and some decent company,” he added, his voice low and calm. you let out a small huff, but the corner of your lips betrayed you with the slightest upturn. “yeah, yeah. just don't get used to it, you two.”

but even as you said it, you settled more comfortably into geto’s arm, the three of you lying there in the quiet night, enjoying the simple, unexpected pleasure of each other's presence. gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he observed your softening expression. “oh, princess, you can deny it all you want, but we know you’re enjoying this deep down. we just have that effect on you, don’t we?”

geto chimed in, his voice carrying an amused tone. “yeah, and the way you’re snuggling into my arm isn’t exactly subtle, either. it's cute when you act all tough but then can’t resist the charm of your two favorite jerks.” you let out a quiet scoff, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. as much as you wanted to keep up the act, you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in your chest at their words. their playful banter, the way they made it a point to draw a smile out of you, it was all annoyingly endearing.

you shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable against geto’s arm, but you didn’t bother giving them a response. instead, you just gazed up at the sky, letting the sounds of their laughter and the cool breeze fill the silence.

it was one of those rare moments where words weren’t needed. surrounded by the soft glow of city lights and the comforting presence of your two favorite idiots, you found yourself genuinely content, even if you’d never admit it out loud. your scoff lingered in the air, a small sign of your silent surrender to their antics, and in return, they both smiled, satisfied with the quiet victory.

gojo and geto exchanged a knowing smirk, silently pleased with your reaction. they knew they had won this little battle of wills, and the look on your face said it all.

lying there under the starry sky, gojo reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “look at you, all cozy and relaxed. we think you secretly love this little adventure, princess.” geto chuckled softly, his hand idly rubbing small circles on your arm. “yeah, we knew you'd come around and admit that spending time with us isn't so bad after all.”

you glanced between them, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to keep it hidden. their warmth, their teasing, and even their relentless persistence—everything about this moment felt oddly comforting.

“maybe,” you mumbled softly, not quite ready to give them the satisfaction of a full admission, but just enough to let them know that you didn’t entirely hate it. gojo’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening. “we’ll take that ‘maybe’ as a win,” he declared, his tone triumphant.

geto nodded, his gentle touch still lingering on your arm. “yeah, that’s basically a ‘yes’ in your language,” he teased, his voice low and fond. you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue further, allowing yourself to just soak in the peace of the moment. maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind this little midnight adventure after all.

gojo chuckled, clearly satisfied with your reluctant admission. “see? we knew you couldn’t resist our irresistible charm. you’re secretly a big ol’ softie.” geto’s smile widened at gojo’s words, his hand continuing its soothing circles on your arm. “yeah, deep down, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. admit it.” the two of them looked down at you, their expressions filled with a mix of amusement and affection as they waited for your response.

the quiet of the night settled around the three of you, the cool grass beneath you and the stars above painting a serene backdrop. your eyes stayed fixed on the vast sky, the scattered constellations offering a calm distraction from the earlier banter.

gojo’s finger brushed against yours, a soft and tentative touch, like he was testing the waters, unsure if you’d pull away or let him linger. but you didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just let the gentle contact continue, finding an unexpected comfort in the subtle connection.

geto’s arm under your head provided a steady warmth, his presence equally calming. though neither of them spoke, their proximity and the quiet sounds of their breathing beside you felt like a silent reassurance—an unspoken promise that, despite the teasing and the occasional annoyances, they were right where they wanted to be: by your side.

for once, you didn’t feel the need to complain or roll your eyes. instead, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the moment, the cool breeze, the faint rustle of leaves, and the distant hum of city lights below making everything feel strangely perfect. maybe, you thought, this wasn’t such a bad place to be after all.

gojo and geto continued their subtle touches, silently enjoying the peaceful moment. they could sense that you were relaxed and content, and for once, they didn’t press you to say anything.

gojo's finger gently traced a lazy pattern on the back of your hand, his touch barely perceptible. geto's arm underneath your head held you close, his presence steady and comforting. the night deepened as the three of you lay there under the vast sky, the silence stretching on as if the world had slowed down, just for this moment.

after a while, gojo finally broke the silence, his voice soft and thoughtful, “you know, i never thought I'd say this, but this isn’t too bad.“

geto hummed in agreement, his arm adjusting slightly under your head. “yeah, usually our little adventures involve more chaos and less quiet relaxation.” gojo chuckled quietly, his finger still tracing small circles on your hand. “yeah, usually we’re the ones causing the trouble, not lying in the grass like some peace-loving hippies.”

geto chuckled as well, joining in on the playful banter. “yeah, and you’re usually the one complaining the loudest, princess.”

gojo smirked, lifting his free hand and lightly pinching your cheek. “yeah, but we’ve already established that deep down, you secretly love our annoying antics. that’s why you keep hanging out with us.” you huffed, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. “please, let’s not pretend i have a choice here. you two are the ones who keep forcing me to hang out. if i ever tried to bail, you’d just terrorize me until i gave in—or worse, have suguru’s rainbow dragon hunt me down.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening. “damn right we’d keep terrorizing you. if we couldn’t win you over with our charm, we’d just resort to pestering you till you said yes.” geto chimed in, a sly smile creeping across his face, “and you know we’d do it too. we don’t give up that easily.” a pause hung in the air as both of them eyed you expectantly, waiting for your response. they knew they had a point, but they also knew you weren't likely to admit that you secretly enjoyed their company.

you sighed, rolling your eyes as their smug expressions continued to linger. “shut up, both of you,” you mumbled, trying to stifle a smile. “can we just enjoy a quiet moment for once without you two yapping your asses off?”

gojo chuckled, but he respected your request, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “alright, alright. we'll give the princess some peace and quiet.”

geto nodded, still grinning but now in silence, his hand gently squeezing yours in acknowledgment. the three of you settled back into a comfortable quiet, the sounds of the city below fading away as you all focused on the stillness of the night, the stars above, and the quiet but undeniable warmth of being together.

as the quiet settled around you once again, a thought occurred to geto. he glanced over at you, his voice quiet but curious. “hey, y/n,” he began. gojo glanced over as well, his eyes fixed on you, anticipating the question. you hummed softly as the answer. geto continued, his tone thoughtful. “have you ever made a wish on a shooting star?”

you stayed silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the sky above, tracing the faint outlines of distant stars. the night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional distant hum of the city below. after a brief pause, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “yeah,” you finally answered, still gazing upwards, “i have.”

gojo perked up, a look of mild surprise on his face. “really?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. geto raised an eyebrow, turning to look at you with a hint of intrigue in his eyes. “huh, i didn't take you for the superstitious type.” you shrugged slightly, still looking up at the sky, “i didn't, but i was pretty desperate at the time.”

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with curiosity. they knew that you weren't one to casually make wishes on shooting stars. “yeah?” gojo prompted, his voice a mix of interest and concern, “what was so desperate that you needed to make a wish on a shooting star?”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you weighed your options. after a long pause, you sighed and looked back up at the sky. “it’s… something i want the most,” you finally said, your voice quiet but honest, “something i didn’t think i could get any other way.”

gojo and geto grew quiet, their expressions turning thoughtful. they could sense the seriousness in your tone and knew that this wasn't a light-hearted request. there was a moment of silence as the two of them exchanged a glance, a silent question passing between them. finally, gojo spoke up again.

“what was it that you wished for?” he asked softly, his voice gentle. you shifted slightly in geto's embrace, feeling his warmth against you as you took a breath. “gentle love,” you admitted softly, the words hanging in the air. there was a brief silence as you all absorbed the weight of your confession.

a quiet laugh escaped your lips, breaking the stillness. “it’s silly, i know,” you muttered, your tone light but a bit self-conscious. “sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, huh?” there was another brief moment of silence as the two of them processed your words. they glanced at each other again, sensing the vulnerability behind your confession.

then, gojo chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “no, it’s not ridiculous,” he reassured, his voice gentle and sincere. geto spoke up as well, his hand gently squeezing yours, “yeah, don’t worry, princess. it’s not silly at all.”

a few moments passed before gojo spoke up again, his voice a little quieter, “can i ask you something?” geto remained silent, his eyes fixed on you, waiting to see where this was going.

again, you softly hummed.

gojo shifted a bit, his eyes locked on yours, “what does ‘gentle love’ mean to you?” geto watched you closely, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. you smiled softly, your eyes drifting to the stars above. “i want gentle love,” you murmured, your voice filled with quiet longing. “that kind of love where he rubs my cheek with his thumb, where he kisses me over and over until we're laughing.”

you continued, your gaze distant as you pictured the tender moments in your mind. “where he uses his fingers to make circles on my hand, kisses my shoulder when i’m looking away, tucks my hair behind my ears, and kisses my forehead.”

a wistful sigh escaped your lips. “long hugs, rubbing my back when i lay on his chest… where he treats me like i'm delicate.” you paused, feeling the weight of your own words, before a small smile tugged at your lips, almost as if you were lost in a sweet daydream.

gojo and geto listened intently, their expressions soft as you described your yearning for gentle love. they could hear the earnest desire in your voice, the way your words painted a picture of quiet, tender affection.

there was a moment of silence as they took in your description, before gojo broke it. “that all sounds really nice,” he offered, his voice gentle. geto hummed in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you. “yeah, it does,” he said quietly, his hand giving yours a slight squeeze.bgojo shifted again, watching you closely. “have you... ever received that kind of love before?” he asked, his voice soft but curious. geto stayed silent, knowing that gojo's question might touch a nerve.

you glanced at gojo, your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at his question. a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head gently. “no,” you admitted, your voice carrying a tinge of vulnerability. “that’s why i’m desperate.”

your words hung in the cool night air, the soft glow of the city lights in the distance reflecting the quiet longing in your heart. you felt gojo and geto's gazes on you, their expressions a mix of empathy and something unspoken, but you just kept your eyes on the sky, the stars above feeling like the only witness to your wish.

the three of you fell into a brief silence again as your words settled in. gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting to show a mix of understanding and concern.

gojo was the first to speak up, his voice a bit softer than usual. “but why does it have to be a shooting star? why not just...” he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his thought. geto picked up where he left off, his voice equally soft. “yeah, why not just find someone who can give you that gentle love?”

you gently nudged gojo's chest, a soft smile tugging at your lips as he lay beside you. “i told you i was desperate,” you said, a light chuckle following your words. “when you want something that badly, you'll do anything— even something as silly as wishing on a shooting star.”

turning your head slightly, you meet geto's eyes, your smile fading into something more contemplative. “it’s not that easy,” you admitted, your voice a bit quieter. “finding someone who truly understands that kind of love… it feels impossible sometimes.” you let out a small sigh, your gaze drifting back up to the sky.

gojo and geto didn’t have a response to that. they could feel the weight of your hopeless feeling, the resignation that crept into your voice.

geto's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that he was listening. gojo, meanwhile, found himself unable to find anything to say that would ease the heaviness in the air. after a few moments of silence, gojo finally spoke up, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of disbelief. “how could it be impossible? you're not that difficult to love.”

your heart quickened at gojo’s words, a flicker of warmth spreading through the ache you’d long carried. for as long as you could remember, you’d believed you were harder to love—your parents’ dismissiveness and constant comparisons to your siblings only cemented that belief. but hearing gojo say that, even in his casual tone, felt like a balm to your wounded heart.

you turned your head slightly, catching gojo’s gaze. his eyes were sincere, a quiet intensity in them that told you he meant every word. something shifted in your chest, a mix of hope and disbelief, and for a moment, you found yourself struggling to find the right response. all you could manage was a small, genuine smile, the weight of your unspoken fears still hanging between you but just a little lighter now. “thanks,” you finally whispered, the simple word carrying all the gratitude and vulnerability you couldn’t quite voice.

gojo smiled back, his eyes meeting yours. he could tell that his words had touched a chord in you, and despite the lighthearted tone of his comment, he meant it. geto, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stayed quietly beside you, his arm still wrapped around you, his presence a gentle reassurance.

gojo's expression softened as he continued to look at you, his voice warm. “you really have no idea how lovable you are, do you?” gojo leaned closer, propping himself up on his elbow. his eyes never left yours, the sincerity in them more intense than before. he gently pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

when he pulled back, his expression was filled with a mix of affection and gentle confidence. “as your upperclassman, i can guarantee it—loving you is as easy as a snap of the fingers.” he snapped his fingers playfully, a warm smile spreading across his face, the kind that reached his eyes and made you feel seen and cherished in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

geto watched from beside you, a smile playing on his lips as he observed the tenderness in gojo’s actions. he had seen gojo in many moods—arrogant, playful, and careless—but this version of him, the one who was gentle and sincere, was reserved for rare moments like these.

as gojo pulled back from his affectionate gesture, geto spoke up softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, but also a genuine fondness. “he’s right, you know,” he added, glancing at you. “loving you might just be the easiest thing people can do.”

you smiled, the warmth from their words seeping into your chest, filling it with a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. “aww, thank you, guys,” you said, your tone playful but laced with sincerity. “aren't you the sweetest when you're not being annoying and acting like assholes?”

gojo chuckled at your light-hearted response, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated annoyance. “i'm always sweet,” he protested, feigning offense. “you're just too dense to see it most of the time.”

geto chuckled as well, his arm tightening around you very slightly. “oh, please,” he chimed in, his smirk playful, “you're nothing more than a loud-mouthed annoyance most days, and we all know it.”

as gojo let out an exaggerated gasp of outrage and opened his mouth to protest, you chuckle. “oh c’mon, don’t deny it,” you teased. “we all know you’re a pain in the ass more than you're a sweetheart.” gojo looked like he was about to argue, but then he huffed and crossed his arms, a small pout on his face. “you're both so mean to me,” he muttered, clearly not taking the banter too seriously.

geto chuckled warmly at gojo's mock sulk, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. he couldn't help but join in on picking on his friend. “well, we wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so full of yourself all the time,” he pointed out, his smirk widening. gojo huffed in faux indignation, his pout deepening. “i am not full of myself. i'm just confident. there's a difference, you know?”

you chimed in again, your smile widening as gojo continued to pout. “yeah, that’s what happens when you act like a big brat all the time. you reap what you sow,” you agreed with geto's.

gojo's pout turned into a full-on frown at your words, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “hey, i do not act like a brat,” he protested, his voice edging on a whine.

geto, sensing an opportunity to tease him further, couldn't resist chiming in again. “oh, but you do,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “you act like a spoiled little kid who's always demanding attention.” gojo's frown deepened as geto continued to dig into his ego. “i do not demand attention,” he argued, his voice rising slightly.

geto chuckled, not taking gojo's protests seriously. “oh, yes, you do. you're like a needy little puppy, always wanting to be noticed and fussed over.” you chuckled softly, shaking your head at their banter. watching them bicker like this was like witnessing a comedy routine unfold right before your eyes. “you guys are ridiculous,” you mumbled, amusement dancing in your voice.

leaning back on the grass, you glanced up at the sky again, still smiling. it was moments like these—lighthearted, carefree, and full of laughter—that made you cherish their presence even more. “but, honestly, i wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added, your voice soft but sincere, appreciating the warmth they brought to your life, even through their antics.

geto and gojo paused in their banter for a moment, their eyes shifting to you as you leaned back against the grass, looking up at the stars. gojo’s expression softened, his pout replaced by a small smile. he caught your eye for a second, his gaze warm and genuine.

geto's smile mirrored gojo's, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “yeah, same here,” he echoed your sentiment, his voice carrying a hint of affection that was as sincere as yours.

they fell into a brief silence as they all soaked in the peaceful surroundings. the laughter and light-hearted banter from moments ago had given way to a comfortable quiet, the only sounds being the distant sounds of the city and the gentle rustling of the grass. after a few moments, gojo spoke up again, his voice softer now. “you know, i really mean it,” he said, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

you glanced over at gojo, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. his sudden shift in tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you wondered what he was getting at. “mean what?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity as you tried to piece together what he was referring to.

the sincerity in his expression was unusual, and it made you slightly uneasy, unsure of where the conversation was headed. you turned your attention fully to him, your brow furrowing slightly as you waited for him to elaborate.

gojo's gaze shifted from the stars to you. he could sense the confusion and curiosity in your eyes, and it made his heart clench slightly. it was unusual for him to be this serious, and he knew you must be wondering what was on his mind.

he paused for a moment, his normally lighthearted gaze now filled with a sincerity that made it all the more impactful. “i meant what i said earlier,” he clarified, his voice low but genuine, “about loving you being the easiest thing.”

your breath caught at his words, the sincerity in his tone making your heart flutter. it was rare for gojo to be this earnest, and it threw you off balance, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond—his words were so simple, yet they carried a weight that settled deeply in your chest.

you glanced away, focusing on the stars again, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “you’re really something, satoru,” you mumbled softly, your voice betraying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “i’m not used to hearing stuff like that.”

you glanced back at him briefly, catching the warm, reassuring look in his eyes, and felt your walls soften just a little more, “but… thank you. that means a lot.” gojo's heart warmed at your genuine reaction to his words. he could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the way his sincere comments had thrown you off guard. it was a new side of you that he hadn't seen before.

he smiled back, his eyes soft, watching as you looked away and back at the stars. as you thanked him and admitted you weren't used to hearing those words, he reached over and gently tugged on a strand of your hair, playful yet affectionate.

“you deserve to hear it more often,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of a promise. geto had been quietly listening, allowing gojo his moment with you. he observed the tender exchange, the way your guard was slowly lowering with each sincere word. he could see the impact of gojo’s words on you, the way your cheeks flushed slightly and your eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

he smiled softly, his hand still on your shoulder, a silent witness to the intimate conversation unfolding between the two of you. gojo watched as geto remained silent, his presence a steady, comforting presence behind you. gojo could practically feel geto's eyes on the two of you. he knew geto was observing, listening to the conversation unfold.

he turned his attention back to you, his gaze soft and affectionate. he was enjoying this moment, this rare opportunity to be open and vulnerable without his usual pretense.

“you really should get used to hearing it,” he repeated, his voice low and sincere. “everyone should be telling you how lovable you are all the time.” as gojo spoke again, his voice dripping with sincerity, geto could see your expression soften further. you were visibly affected by his words, struggling to process the compliments and vulnerability he was expressing.

he took a moment to observe you, the way your walls were slowly crumbling under gojo’s gentle yet firm persistence. it was a sight to behold, seeing someone so used to closing themselves off slowly opening up due to another’s affection.

you let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you—gratitude, vulnerability, and a touch of disbelief. pushing yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at the landscape stretched out before you, the city lights twinkling in the distance against the inky night sky.

with a small, almost wistful smile, you murmured, “eh, the view isn’t so bad,” your tone light but carrying an undercurrent of meaning. gojo propped himself up next to you, his eyes following your gaze to the cityscape in the distance. he chuckled lightly at your comment, understanding the double meaning behind your words.

“told ya,” he teased, a playful grin on his face. he could see the vulnerable expression you tried to hide beneath your light tone, and it made his heart clench slightly. geto, still laying behind you, noticed the exchange and smiled, his hand still gently rubbing your shoulder, a silent show of reassurance.

you glanced at the sky one more time before sighing softly, feeling the weight of the moment lingering between the three of you. shifting slightly, you gave them a small smile, trying to mask the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

“we should probably get going,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled. “it's already so late.”

you started to push yourself up, brushing off the bits of grass clinging to your clothes. the quiet warmth of their company was something you’d savor, but you weren’t quite ready to linger in this vulnerability for much longer. as you stood, you glanced down at them, catching the way gojo’s playful grin softened and how geto’s reassuring smile never wavered. despite the lateness, you knew they’d both follow you anywhere, no questions asked.

as you started to stand up, gojo and geto exchanged a quick, knowing glance. they could sense your need to break the moment, to reestablish some distance after the vulnerability that had been revealed.

gojo pushed himself up after you, his grin now more gentle than playful. “yeah, let’s head back,” he agreed, his voice soft yet understanding. geto got up as well, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer before he dropped it, the reassuring smile still on his face. “we still have class tomorrow,” he reminded playfully.

geto's eyes caught sight of his sweatshirt hanging loosely over your shoulders, and his expression softened even more. with a gentle shake of his head, he stepped closer, his hands already moving to adjust it. “you should wear this properly,” he murmured, his tone filled with that familiar mix of fondness and care. “don't want you catching a cold, do we?”

he carefully slipped the sleeves over your arms, his touch gentle but firm as he pulled it snug around you. he took an extra moment to make sure it fit comfortably, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulders. “there,” he said with a satisfied nod, his smile growing as he looked at you. “better, right?”

the gesture was small but filled with the kind of quiet affection that spoke louder than words, leaving no doubt in your mind that, even in the simplest actions, geto's care for you ran deep. as geto tugged the sleeves of the sweatshirt into place and adjusted it around you, gojo watched the exchange quietly, his gaze flicking between you both.

he couldn't help but notice the tenderness in geto’s touch, the way he took the time to ensure the hoodie fit perfectly around you. the gesture was subtle, a silent expression of care and connection.

he could see the effect it had on you, the way you subtly relaxed under geto’s touch, a small smile tugging at your lips. gojo couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify.

as you turned to face the descent, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, the thought of trekking down the hill already wearing you out. “ugh, i can’t believe we have to walk all the way down,” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands in mock despair.

gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, catching up beside you. “come on, it’s not that bad,” he teased, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he found your frustration endearing.

geto, ever the considerate one, stepped closer and gently squeezed your shoulder. “if you’re really that tired, we can take it slow,” he offered, his voice warm and patient. “or, you know, we could always carry you,” he added with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you just a bit.

your exaggerated sigh and whine about the walk were met with gojo’s amused chuckle, his eyes sparkling with playful understanding.

“you’re so dramatic,” he teased, his tone light, “as if a little walk is too much for you.”

geto’s gentle offer to take it slow or carry you was made with a sincere concern for your tiredness, and he tacked on the playful comment, clearly enjoying himself. his smirk hinted at his mischievousness, but you knew he was only half-joking.

you turned to them with a dramatic huff, hands on your hips as you eyed them both expectantly. “alright, so which one of you is going to be a gentleman and carry me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, demanding.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, both of them trying and failing to conceal the grins that were pulling at the corners of their lips. they knew you were being playful, putting on a dramatic display to get your way, and they both knew they’d willingly play along.

gojo stepped closer, putting on an air of mock-exasperation. “oh, you and your demands,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful fondness. “don’t you know princesses should be carried on their prince’s strong arms?”

geto chuckled at gojo’s playfully exaggerated response, watching the two of you banter. he couldn’t help but join in, his eyes glittering with mirth. “that’s true,” he agreed, his grin widening. “princesses shouldn’t have to walk on such lovely little legs when they have princes to carry them.”

he took a step closer, his own eagerness to play along evident, his voice laced with a hint of anticipation. “so i guess that means neither of us can resist the call of chivalry, huh?” you straightened up, placing a hand on your hip and lifting your chin like a royal decree was about to be made. “alright, peasant,” you declared, putting on your best princess voice from centuries past, “carry me on your back, and make haste!”

with a dramatic flourish, you patted geto's back as if commanding him into service, a playful glint in your eyes as you stifled a laugh. gojo and geto both burst into quiet laughter at your haughty princess command, clearly amused by your overdramatic attempt at regal authority.

geto, playing along with theatrical flair, quickly dipped into a low, exaggerated bow, his hand over his heart. “as you wish, my delightful little princess,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock subservience. without warning, he quickly stepped in front of you, grabbing your legs and effortlessly hoisting you up onto his back, holding you securely with strong, steady hands.

as the three of you began your descent down the hill, the cool night air was refreshing against your skin. the path was well-trodden and easy to navigate, flanked by the soft, undulating grass of the field below. the grass field stretched out like a sea of green, dotted occasionally with wildflowers that added splashes of color to the landscape.

the distant city lights twinkled like stars on the horizon, creating a warm, ambient glow that contrasted with the dark, expansive sky above. the serene, peaceful atmosphere was broken only by the soft rustling of the grass and the occasional chirp of nocturnal insects.

as you made your way down, the gentle slope of the hill provided a smooth, relaxed descent. the night was clear, with the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the surroundings, making the walk both picturesque and tranquil. the cool breeze carried with it a sense of calm, adding to the overall peacefulness of the moment.

the atmosphere around the three of you was a picture-perfect moment of tranquility as you made your way down the hill, the landscape bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

gojo strode along beside you and geto, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his gaze occasionally drifting from the landscape to you, seated comfortably on geto’s back. his eyes were soft, his lips curled into a subtle smile. geto, meanwhile, was enjoying the feeling of you on his back, your warmth and weight a comfortable presence as he navigated the downward slope.

as you reached the bottom of the hill, you gave geto a playful squeeze, your voice light but with a hint of genuine reluctance. “you know, now that i’m all comfy on your back, i’m not so sure i want to walk to the dorm anymore,” you said with a teasing tone.

as you squeezed geto playfully, your words filled with both lightheartedness and genuine reluctance, he let out a low laugh, his back rumbling faintly beneath you. he kept his grip on your legs steady, his hands warm against your skin.

“oh, so you’re going to be a spoiled princess and demand to be carried the rest of the way?” he teased, his voice filled with playfulness and amusement, “it’s not that far, princess. you could at least walk the last bit.”

you shook your head with a playful smile, resting your cheek comfortably against geto's back. “nope,” you murmured softly, your voice muffled but clear. "i’m perfectly comfy here. i think i’ll just enjoy the ride until we get to the dorm."

geto chuckled at your stubborn refusal, continuing to carry you despite the lighthearted bickering. you were warm and cozy, pressed against his back, and he couldn’t deny that there was a certain charm to the current situation.

“oh, so you’re just going to hog my back the whole way,” he teased, a note of playfulness in his tone. “and what if i get tired of hauling your spoiled princess butt the rest of the way?” you chuckled softly, snuggling closer against his back. “oh, you won’t get tired,” you teased back. “with all those muscles of yours, it’d be pretty shameful if you couldn't carry a little weight. i’m just making sure you get to show off those muscles of yours.”

a small grin tugged at the corner of geto's lips at your teasing. he chuckled as he felt you snuggle closer against his back, your words stirring a competitive spark in him.

“oh, so that’s what you’re doing,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock-indignation. “what a spoiled little princess.” he adjusted his grip on your legs, hoisting you up slightly to ensure a more secure hold.

as the three of you continued walking, the light banter between you and geto carried on. he chuckled at your response, his heart feeling a slight flutter at your casual affection.

gojo, walking beside you both, listened to the soft back-and-forth banter. he could see the playfulness and affection between you and geto, and despite the mild sting of something unfamiliar in his chest, he couldn’t help being glad to see geto’s guard drop so easily and naturally around you.

he chuckled under his breath, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “you’re both incorrigible,” he teased, shaking his head. “suguru's going to end up with a sore back by the time we get to the dorm.” you raised your eyebrows playfully at gojo, giving him a smirk. “well, i didn’t see you volunteering to carry me,” you replied, your tone light, “so, you don’t really get a say in this. suguru’s the one who’s earning all the glory right now.”

as the banter continued, gojo’s eyes flickered to geto, his expression tinged with affectionate mockery. he knew geto was enjoying every second of this, playing the role of your personal chariot without complaint.

he felt another pang in his chest as he watched you cling to geto, a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name swirling in his gut. he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on keeping the lighthearted banter going.

the three of you walked through the empty streets, the world wrapped in the stillness of three in the morning. the city’s usual hum was replaced by the soft glow of streetlights, casting gentle shadows that danced around your feet. laughter drifted between you, light and unburdened, as if the night itself had been holding its breath just to witness this moment of pure, unguarded joy.

you rested comfortably on geto’s back, your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. his steps were steady, each one a silent promise of support, and you could feel the warmth of his quiet laughter vibrate through your own chest. beside you, gojo walked with a carefree ease, his presence as bright and effervescent as the stars that dotted the night sky above. every now and then, he’d throw a playful nudge at geto or toss a teasing remark your way, drawing out your sleepy giggles that lingered in the cool night air.

the moon watched over you, a silent guardian of your little trio, its silvery light bathing the world in a soft, dreamlike glow. the cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of grass and the faint promise of morning, yet the three of you lingered in this serene slice of time, as if the dawn could wait just a little longer.

beneath your light-hearted banter, there was an unspoken understanding between gojo and geto—a quiet vow that settled in their hearts as they looked at you nestled so comfortably on geto’s back. they saw the softness in your eyes, the vulnerability you often tried to hide behind sarcasm and dramatics, and they knew. they knew that more than anything, you deserved the kind of love that was steady, gentle, and unwavering. a love that would cradle your heart through every midnight adventure, every shared laugh, and every silent moment where words were unnecessary.

you didn’t notice the fleeting exchange of glances between them, the silent promise etched in their eyes. but as you finally approached your dorm, the walls of your tiredness gave way to a sense of peace. you were surrounded by a warmth that went beyond the physical, a warmth that felt like home in the company of the two who had somehow become your everything.

and as they watched you start to drift off, your head resting lightly against geto’s shoulder, they made a vow—to be the ones who’d always carry you when you were too tired to walk, to share in your laughter and chase away your fears, and to love you in the way you deserved: gently, endlessly, and with all the quiet strength they could muster. it was a promise woven into the fabric of the night, delicate and unbreakable, as eternal as the stars above.

[jeankluv]

— I’m a sucker for reincarnation au, so imagine that after dying fighting curses at the age of 24, you are reborn in a new world with no curse and no sorcery. A normal world.

You remember almost everything about that distant life you had, for years you thought it wasn’t real, but as years started to go by the memories of that life started to be more and more clear, but one thing was still unclear. The blurry face who always smiled at you and that always made your heart flutter. For years you tried to picture that face, to try to remember them. But you always ended up empty handed.

Now you were already pass the age when you died, those curses didn’t exist and you didn’t have to risk your life on risky missions. But still, although you were happy with everything you had in life, something was missing.

You heart was still not full.

“I found you…” You heard one autumn morning when you were walking around the beach with your dog.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

The person was hide behind a cap, and you couldn’t see his face completely.

He approached you and your eyes finally met and you felt how your heart stopped beating when those blue eyes met yours.

“You…”

Memories of your previous life and those ocean eyes started to flash on your head. How you two met in the first year, how he would always tease you, how he would run through the whole Jujutsu Tech whenever you ended up on the medical area… How he held you in your last moments and how he promised you to find you in the next life.

He was there. Gojo Satoru was there. Your Satoru was there. He found you.

“Satoru…” You cried.

“Yeah that’s me.” He held you in his arms, but this time he was not letting you go, he was not going to waste his time.

“I missed you… Even though I couldn’t remember you, I did.” You said against his chest.

“It’s okay… now we found each other.” He whispered against your hair, even in that life he was still taller than you. “I missed you… Living without you was like being in hell… those five years…”

“Five years?” You looked at him, what did he meant by five years. It couldn’t mean what you thought right, it wasn’t possible right? He was Gojo Satoru…

“I died…” He touched your cheek and you looked at him with sad eyes. “But that life doesn’t matter anymore… I care about our now.”

You smiled. “Yeah…”

“So, would you let me take you out on a date?” He smiled and the two dimples that you used to see in your memories that didn’t have an owner, now they did.

_________

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

[cherryblossom-heart]

Do I still wish it was you?

Satoru Gojo x Reader 

Masterlist (If you're into marvel)

Summary: You were content in the darkness his absence had left you, his memory keeping you focused on one plan. It had to be a white-haired sorcerer with an annoying personality and the bluest eyes you had ever seen—the one who came and saved you from it.

12.7 k words

Content warning: ANGST, mentions of suicide, depression, violence, grief, past Toji x Reader, foul language, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all). fluff, Satoru is the sweet, jumping from a building but not a bad way, fighting, fReader

A/N: Ik this is out of my usual content but I can't get over the JJK men so, I hope you guy's like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

Sweat covered your forehead as you fought to recover your breath, the smell of sex and humanity filled his bedroom along with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a couple of minutes for you to finally stand from the bed, making your way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. Naked, disheveled hair, flushed skin along with droplets of sweat, and a minor bruise on your collarbone, the result of a certain white haired sorcerer’s lack of restraint. A small smile placed on your lips before you could stop it as you touched it, the skin still a little tender.

Your sight landed on the small tattoo you had on the left side of your chest, a small black lined heliotrope carefully placed on top of your heart. A prickling sensation invaded your eyes along with the painful sensation of guilt, what were you even doing here? How could you smile when he was gone?

The feelings didn’t get a chance of nesting in you though, as firm hands wrapped around waist and lips caressed your neck. Your sight darted to the mirror, meeting the most breath taking blue eyes you had ever seen along with a smile.

“If you don’t get any clothes on, I might have to fuck you again.”

You smiled at him, desire igniting again as he’s hands caressed your skin.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

A cocky smirk showed up on his face, not that it was unusual to see it. Satoru Gojo was nothing but confident, sometimes overstepping to egocentric, but you would be damned if you didn’t admit he had good reasons for it.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath hitting your skin.

“It’s a promise that I very much intent to fulfill.”

Satoru Gojo was going to be the death of you.

Correction, Satoru Gojo was going to be the reason you would live.

You hadn’t planned for this. You had a set plan: to become a sorceress, completing missions, breaking curses, and fighting battles, one after another. A non stop cycle of violence and war until your body gave out and if death came for you, it wouldn’t bother you. You would receive it as a long awaited friend as nothing mattered to you anymore, never since the day he died.

He was supposed to meet you back at your apartment in Kyoto, he had promised you he would be there. You waited for hours, and hours turned into days and days turned into weeks.

The last thing you heard him was a couple of text messages that read:

Job’s almost done. Maybe we should take 

a vacation, go to Las Vegas and stay at 

one of those casino/hotels you were talking

about. 11:13 pm

Anyway, I’ll see you in two days. I’ve

missed you. 11:14 pm

He vanished without a trace after that.

You moved to Tokyo as you were tracing his last steps. You had talked to Kong, who could not give you any answers. Years of dead ends and unanswered questions finally led you to give up. That day, you drank yourself to sleep.

Everyone was sure he had left you behind, taken his payment for his last job, and left the country. You couldn’t blame them, it was on brand for him to do something alike, but this wasn’t the case. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, not when he promised he would see you.

There was also this strange feeling that had settled on your chest the day after his text. It had taken you by surprise as you were just having lunch and suddenly a sharp pain hit you in the chest and the sensation that something had gone wrong hit you. You had thought it was just stress of not seeing him, maybe a little of an overreaction from you, but as time passed, the emptiness in your chest never left.

He was dead.

After over a year of wandering aimlessly in Tokyo, a certain blue-eyed sorcerer found you. You felt his stare while you were getting your coffee, the burning sensation of a powerful presence followed you around the streets of the city. You pretended you were oblivious to it, changing your path every once in a while to double check you were being tailed.

Once the amount of people around you dissipated, you made your way to a bench in the park, sitting in it so calmly it almost seemed everything was normal for your follower. That was until you looked to the buildings on your left, your eyes connecting with a white-haired man with blackened Windsor glasses. For a second he looked surprised, as it was almost impossible that you could’ve sensed him, but a playful smiled replaced it as soon as it came.

It took him less that 60 seconds to come to approach, you crossed your legs once you felt a presence taking the remaining space in the bench you had sat on. Even when you didn’t look at him, you could still feel that cocky smile on him.

“How did you know I was following you?” He questioned, his arms spreading along the back of the bench as he made himself comfortable.

You took a sip of your coffee. “I could feel you.” You said, nonchalantly. Imitating him, you leaned back. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I teleported.” He shrugged.

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t seem surprised at all.” He turned around to look at you.

“Why would seeing a Jujutsu Sorcerer surprise me?” you asked, now facing him.

The air in your lungs almost disappeared as you found two blue eyes peaking over his glasses, it was almost as if they could see inside your soul. The shiny speckles that seemed to dance around his iris called you, entrancing you into looking at them longer.

Was that his power? Who was this man and why was he stalking you?

“So you know about Jujutsu Society?”

“What does it matter to you?” You barked, your harsh tone only making him smile more. “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you following me?”

He lifted his hands. “Woah there princess, I don’t mean any harm, I promise.” He extended his right hand to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in the world.” He winked as you shook his hand.

You rolled your eyes the pet name and his ego. “Sure you are.”

At the moment you didn’t believe him, thinking he was just an over confident asshole that was just pushing your buttons. Looking back, it made you chuckle at how wrong you were.

He laughed, amused at your response. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what do you want?” You huff, already exasperated by him.

Blue eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me about that special grade knife you keep in that purse?”

Your pulse picked up, the feeling of your heart smashing against your ribcage so hard you felt it would burst out. You couldn’t let him take it, he gave it to you. Perhaps you were too obvious with your worries though, as his eyes traveled to the tight grip you had suddenly imposed on your bag.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking it away.” He reassured you. “I was assigned to take it, but now you’ve captured my attention. I have a hunch you’re much more interesting than that old piece of steel.”

You had found yourself entangled in the world of Jujutsu, at least more than you already were.

He had told you about the sorcerer world, the clans, the sorcerers, the customs, the curses, and everything that came along with that. You had known you had abilities to see things no one else seemed to notice, abilities to get rid of the monsters that crawled all over the world that you had perfected on your own, but you were never sure what to call them or what to call yourself.

Not until a black-haired man with green eyes and a purple worm surrounding him bumped you in the street. A man whose name you couldn’t even mutter without breaking down.

Now you had joined the same world he despised and worked alongside the same people he hated. The sorcerer world had found your abilities useful, at least for the time being, and they had decided, with some pressure from Satoru, that you could be a good addition to their dwelling numbers.

You didn’t like working for them; you didn’t want to do it for a long time, but you had thought it was a good way to just let go and prepare yourself for death. A jujutsu sorcerer's life span was never long; sooner than later they would find their demise. Sure, you could just kill yourself; it would probably be way faster, but if there was an afterlife and you found him there, he would be disappointed in you. Besides, it reminded you of him; he had helped you be as strong as you currently were.

So you fought, day and night; you took whatever they had; there was no small or too big of a curse for you to take. Everything seemed fine for a while; you were content with how things were for a week, until Satoru decided to intervene.

An annoying little prick—that’s what you usually describe him as. His interest in you hadn’t dwindled even after you agreed to join him; it even seemed to have made things worse. He pestered you, following you around with a cocky attitude and bad jokes, forcing you to go with him to places just so he could buy desserts. He got in the way with your missions, babysitting you in as many as he could.

The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that he was always looking at you, not in a weird, sexual kind of way that you could’ve handled, but he did it in a way that it felt he was trying to look into your soul. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the black pair of glasses, you could still feel the burn of his stare on your skin. It felt as if he wanted to know all your secrets, and for the same reason you tried to stay away from him, but the more you tried to do it, the more he seemed to put an effort into crushing it.

Satoru Gojo was the bane of your existence.

“I told you it was a good idea to get this peach daifuku for the way home.” He said, mouth full of food. “Want one?”

“Sure.” You muttered, snatching it out of his hand.

This was the third time in a week he had decided to come with you for a mission, your patience running thin the more time you spent with the white-haired sorcerer. You had done your job without any hiccups, and the worst part about it was that it seemed he wasn’t even there to intervene if anything did happen, evidently by his relaxed stance along with his arms crossing his chest.

That could only mean that he was tasked with babysitting you or he had actively chosen to follow you everywhere, and you didn’t know which one was worse.

“Hey, Gojo...” you started, unsure on how to make your point. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know that, right? I think I’ve shown you I’m capable enough of doing this.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He answered, lazily stretching his arms along the subway seats.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned, slapping away the arm that was on your side.

“Cause I like keeping you company.”

Cocky blue eyes met yours, except this time they weren’t all cocky; they were sincere. They looked at you with precaution, gaging your reaction towards his words as if they were almost afraid to scare you away.

You didn’t give an answer to his words, opting instead for eating your snack in silence. Maybe it was worse that he had been babysitting you; if that had been the case, you wouldn’t have had a small smile on your face.

A knock on your door woke you from your impromptu nap; the banging was so loud it reverberated throughout the house. You looked at your watch and noticed that it was only 7 p.m., but that didn't make it any better; whoever it was, you wanted to kill them.

With angry footsteps you made your way to the door, not caring that it looked like you had just woken up.

"What?!" You yelled, flinging the door open.

Your sight was flooded with snacks and movies before revealing Satoru, his glasses slightly tilted down as he looked at your clothes.

"Nice outfit." He winked.

Suddenly you realized that the only thing you were wearing was a gray sweater, barely big enough to cover your thighs. You pulled the sweater down, warmth infiltrating your face.

"Why are you here?"

"Movie night." He said simply, pushing his way into your apartment.

Once he was in the living room, his eyes scanned his surroundings, which in turn made you a little too aware that your apartment was too empty, almost as if no one lived there.

"I don't remember inviting you." You pinched the bridge of your nose, sure a migraine was on its way.

"Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do."

After a few seconds of delivery, you grabbed the bag of instant popcorn to make it in your microwave, rolling your eyes at his smile.

Maybe it was because you were too tired to argue with him; having just woken up, your brain wasn't working so well. Maybe it was because you knew it would take less time to go along with his shenanigans than it would to argue with him.

Or maybe, just maybe, you felt lonely. Sure, Satoru wasn't your first choice, but he seemed to want to be there, even when you tried to keep away from him. There was something about his persistence that made you smile, almost like a puppy you couldn't keep away.

If you were honest, he wasn't that bad. In another life, you might have enjoyed his company, maybe even become friends, but you weren't interested in anyone else coming into your life, not with a hole in your chest with a name on it.

But just for one night, you decided to give in.

You sat down next to him and put the bowl of popcorn between you. "So what are we watching?"

"This." He handed you a DVD case with a foreign title on it, Italian, it seemed. “The movie is great; there's a lot of action; the only bummer is the main guy dies.”

You slapped his arm.

"Thanks, dickhead. Way to spoil the movie."

“Don’t be a cry baby; you could’ve guessed it within the first 10 minutes of the movie.”

You scoffed. "You don't know that."

"Sorry, my bad." He raised his hands. "You're acting like I said the main guy's love interest turns out to be working for the bad guys."

"Dude!"

He laughed, the echo of his voice resounding along the walls.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"Just play the stupid movie."

You ended up watching two more movies that night before you both fell asleep. And in the warmth and comfort of your lonely apartment, it was the first time in a long time that you didn't think of green eyes and black hair before you closed your eyes.

"Ah, come on. You need to give me more details." Satoru complained, walking alongside you.

"I don't have to give you shit."

It had been a few months since that movie night and you had found yourself not completely rejecting Gojo's presence, and on good days, you would say you enjoyed it. You didn't argue as much when he joined you on missions, and you didn't fight him when he wanted you to go with him to get something to eat or to your apartment to watch a movie. It was... a routine of sorts, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it at least a little.

"You can't just tell me you have a tattoo and not tell me what or where it is."

"And you'll never know."

He hurried his steps, standing in front of you, but walking backwards. He put his hands together and begged you to answer.

"Please, you must tell me, the secret could kill me. What would you do if the strongest sorcerer in the world died and it's all your fault?"

"I'd probably throw a party." You snorted.

Satoru, the drama queen he always was, put his hands over his heart, a playful 'ouch' escaping his lips.

"You hurt me, Princess. I thought you would be devastated if something happened to me." Gojo pouted, the sight making you chuckle slightly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. I would mourn you for at least ten years." You joked.

"Make it fifteen and I might consider forgiving you." He winked.

You made your way through the busy streets of Tokyo until you found yourselves standing in line for coffee, the cozy environment of the place giving you a sense of warmth.

"If I pay for your drink, will you tell me about your tattoo?" He whispered next to your ear.

The smell of his mouthwash hit your nostrils, the cool mint scent lingering in your mind for a few seconds.

"It's going to take a lot more than a bad cup of coffee for me to tell you this."

He rolled his eyes, arms outstretched in defeat as he wrapped one of them around your shoulders. You shook your shoulder, trying to get him off of you, but he didn't budge. You told yourself that just for once you would allow it.

"How about dinner sometime? Would that be enough for you to tell me?" He said casually.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, thinking he was joking. Although the way he had said it made you think for a second that it was real and there was another intention behind his invitation. That thought only lasted a second as you found it impossible that he was talking about a date, so you played along.

Your eyes turned back forward as you shrugged. “Depends where you take me. Spend enough money on me and I might give you a hint."

"Oh, you're one of those girls?" He chuckled. "You only go out with someone who takes you to expensive places and showers you with gifts?"

"Well, Gojo... if you want to know all my deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well try a little harder." 

Silence fell upon you, making you think the conversation was over, but a few minutes later he spoke again, surprising you with his words.

"Alright, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight."

The dim lights of the restaurant made for a more private, intimate atmosphere. Gojo had actually kept his promise, you could tell the restaurant was way over your budget, the cutlery alone seemed to have cost a fortune. The waiter had been very attentive, leading you both to a table at the back of the restaurant and taking your coat to put it away.

Once the two of you were alone, you had assured Satoru that you had only been joking, that you had not really taken his offer seriously.

"Why did you come?" He asked, taking a bite out of the appetizer he had ordered.

"I mean, who am I to turn down free food?"

He chuckled, "And what do you think so far? Worth your time?"

"Ask me after dessert and I'll give you an answer."

Dinner continued with ease, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to laugh at his jokes and make some of your own. You never thought that spending time with Satoru would make you so... happy? You weren't even sure how to describe it, the only thing you knew was that it wasn't horrible.

It was actually quite nice. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to get to know someone.

You talked about where you grew up, how you got your powers, and about your family. In return, he talked about his clan, how he had mastered his powers and about some of his years at Jujutsu High. You talked about little things, your hobbies, your favorite color and your favorite movies.

Talking with Satoru made you realize that you knew so little about him, even though you had known each other for almost a year. Sure, you knew some little details here and there, but you never went in depth, to you, Satoru was nothing more than a pain in the ass and a pawn of the Jujutsu society. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost everyone else thought the same.

That night, you realized that only a handful of people saw him as Satoru instead of Gojo, the greatest defender in the Jujutsu society. Perhaps that was why, despite his colorful personality, he seemed lonely. He seemed to be missing someone in his life who would see him as something other than the power he was born with. For whatever reason, this thought made your heart ache.

Throughout the night, you found yourself staring at him more than usual, noticing every little detail of his face. You noticed the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, the way his smile showed most of his teeth, the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. You also noticed the tenderness of his eyes, how every so often he looked at you in a way that would make your heart hammer against your chest or the way he would look at your lips every so often and you weren’t sure if he knew you noticed or he just didn’t care.

At the end of the night, you were having trouble deciding which dessert to get, not sure whether to get the cheesecake or the assorted mochi, so he told you to get both.

"I don't believe you, there's no way you don't have hobbies."

He laughed. "I really don't. I'm just too good at everything I do."

You rolled your eyes at him. "And you have the biggest ego I've ever seen in my life."

"Some would call it ego, I call it confidence. And well deserved."

You finished your last mochi, enjoying the last bit of strawberry flavor. As soon as you had taken the last bite, Satoru spoke eagerly.

"So, was this dinner good enough for you to tell me about your tattoo?"

You pretended to hesitate for a second, but you had to hand it to him, he went all out.

"I guess I have to tell you now that you spent so much money on it." You said with a sigh.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, pumping one of his fists in the air.

"Don't get too excited, it's nothing too scandalous." You pulled your cleavage to the side, exposing the left side of your chest.

His eyes locked on the drawing on your skin, heat burning inside you the longer he stared.

"It's a flower?"

You nodded. "It's a heliotrope."

"What does that mean?"

Your voice wavered, your chest tightening. You couldn't talk about it. You didn't want to. But you couldn't show him.

"That's a story for another time."

As much of an asshole as you thought Satoru was, you knew he wasn't an idiot, he understood that you didn't want to talk about it, so he seemed to let it go.

"Alright, that's fair. I got a lot of secrets tonight." He stood up and straightened his black suit. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick and then we can go, is that okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

You lost sight of him as he turned the corner and your mind wandered over everything that had happened tonight. You hadn't expected that Satoru would actually buy you dinner and in such a place, and even though you knew that this was just a peasant's change for him, it still surprised you.

You were also surprised by how... human he was. He had surprised you once when he told you about the children he was sponsoring and taking care of, since their parents were nowhere to be found. You didn't get the change to ask for their names, but you were sure you would get another one, you were sure Satoru wasn't done surprising you.

A man called your name and made you look up. 

Shiu Kong stood in front of you, his desvihebeled appearance intact, except for the way he had done his hair, a small attempt to soothe it.

"Kong." You said as you stood up. You shook his hand in greeting, wanting to get this conversation over with before Gojo returned. "What brings you here? Pleasure or business?"

"You know it's always business." He scoffed. His eyes took a double look at your dress before a small grin appeared on his face. "I would ask the same, but it looks like it's all pleasure for you."

"I guess you could call it that." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of you said anything for a second. It wasn't like you were friends, you were barely a step above strangers and the only connection you had was gone. Fortunately, Shiu broke the silence.

"I never expected to see you here." He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you moved on."

Her heart fell to the ground, replaced by a painful sting.

"I... no, it's not like that." You tried to explain, your words stumbling.

Why did you try to justify yourself? This wasn't a date, was it?

"Hey, I'm not asking for explanations." He said. "I'm not judging you, it's been a while since anyone has heard from Toji."

Toji.

His name came back to haunt you as if it was the first day he didn't go home. The pain was excruciating, almost blinding you to the point of passing out. You hadn't heard his name in over a year, you didn't even dare to say it.

That was a date, right? What the hell were you doing going on a date with Satoru Gojo? How could you do that to Toji's memory? How could you be in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying the company of someone who wasn't his? A sorcerer nonetheless?

How could you?

A man in a suit called out to Kong, motioning for him to come over to where he was.

"Anyway, I have to go now. Have a good life, kid."

You barely registered his handshake or when he walked away, all you could do was stand there and try not to collapse. The sudden realization hit you, you hadn’t thought of him throughout this whole night, only at the very end of it.

You had forgotten him.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, worried blue eyes looking at you through the usual black glasses.

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, worry lacing his words.

No.

How could you be okay when you forgot him? How could you even do that?

You didn't know what to do, the hole in your chest threatened to swallow you whole. It was what you deserved.

"I-I have to go." You said simply.

With quick movements, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the exit. You didn't care about getting your coat, not when your lungs couldn't breathe, each inhale bringing you closer to suffocation.

The heels you wore hindered your steps, almost causing you to trip twice. With frantic movements, you kicked them off, your bare feet touching the streets of Tokyo as you tried to run from the white-haired sorcerer who kept calling your name.

Calls and texts flooded your phone, finally forcing you to turn it off.

You avoided Satoru after that.

"The wound will heal in no time, but I would still recommend you to take a few days off." Shoko said as she took off her gloves.

"I'll think about it." You said, no real promise behind your words.

Shoko looked at you, studying your face carefully. You knew what she saw, the dark circles, the carelessness of your appearance. But most of all, the pain behind your eyes. Maybe a while ago you would have been careful, trying to hide it so no one could see it, but at this point you didn't really care anymore.

As you rolled your shirt down to cover your torso and the large cut that had been made there, the door burst open, making both of you jump.

Satoru entered the room, taking strong and determined steps towards you, and within seconds he was standing next to you. He lifted your shirt just enough to get a glimpse of the damage the curse had caused, cold fingers poking at the newly healed skin.

It took you a few seconds to snap out of it, but eventually you were aware of how close he was and how exposed you felt.

"What the hell are you doing?" You barked, taking a step away from him and dropping your shirt.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He repeated, an incredulous tone in his words. "What the hell were you thinking? We were supposed to go on this mission together."

You got his text, along with several others telling you to wait for him before going in. Just like the ones you got before, this one was ignored.

"I don't remember asking for a partner."

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now? You almost fucking died and you’re mad at me for wanting to go with you.”

"I don't need your help!"

"You do when you've been trying to get yourself killed ever since I met you!" He shouted, his chest heaving with anger as he came closer to you.

"Satoru-" The doctor tried to intervene but Gojo stopped her.

"Stay out of this, Shoko."

"So what if I am?" You said and came closer to him.

"Do you know how fucking crazy this is?" His hands went to his hair and pulled it back in despair. "You've had a bad life? Tough shit, everyone here has been through tough times, you think that makes you special? That somehow that makes it okay for you to say fuck it and act so fucking stupid?"

His words burned deep inside you, you didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. He knew the effect of his words, but he kept going.

"You want to know why I still go on missions with you? Because of shit like this. Not only will you get yourself killed, but you might end up hurting someone else. Is that what you want? Don't you care about anything but your own selfishness?"

Your eyes began to sting, his face just inches from yours. Blue eyes were once more focused on you, once again searching in your soul. This time though, you could see something in them, a type of pain you didn’t understand. It almost made you back away.

Almost.

"My life is none of your damn business. Drop the 'savior' complex and stay the fuck out of my life." You pushed him away. "We're not friends, I can barely stand you, and I sure as hell don't need you pestering me with whatever this is. Stay. The. Fuck. Away."

His hands became fists and you thought he was going to grab you, maybe even shake you. Instead, he walked away, the only remnant of his presence being the sandalwood scent of his cologne. You stood there for a while, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the tears.

"He's not wrong, you know?" Shoko spoke, her voice startling you. For a moment, you forgot that she was in the room. "It's pretty obvious that you're trying to get yourself killed."

You thought about arguing with her the same way you had with Gojo, only you didn't have the energy anymore, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sat back in the chair where you had been examined, your head hanging from your shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, Shoko. Life sucks."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'll give you that much." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She grabbed one before holding her arm out to you. "You want one?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Not today, sorry. Cigarette is the best I can offer."

You took one out and put it between your lips. Shoko lit yours before hers, the smoke filling your lungs immediately. The raw sensation in your throat almost made you forget your pain, a good side effect you more than welcomed.

“I know that Satoru can be a little too much but he means well.“ She paused, trying to find the right words. "We have seen this before with one of our classmates, not exactly the same, but close enough. He was Satoru's best friend."

You were surprised, not once had he ever mentioned it, although you hadn't exactly asked questions about his life, not until this dinner.

"Is he dead?" was the only thing you could think of to ask.

"Oh, no. He's very much alive, he's just..." She took a drag on the cigarette. "I don't think it's my place to tell you this, so let's just say that things have gone very badly for him. So you can understand why he's a little worried about you."

Neither of you said much after that, preferring to smoke in silence. Shoko's words made sense to you, there was always a hint of sadness when Satoru talked about his school days. Even when he smiled and told you about his pranks as a teenager, at the very end of his stories, his eyes would flash with pain, just for a second.

After a few minutes, you finished your cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of your shoe. You thanked Shoko for her care and for the cigarette as you made your way to the door until she called your name.

"Satoru told me about your dinner and how you avoided him." Heat flushed your cheeks, slightly embarrassed that someone else was aware of your actions. "I like you and I don't know what's going on between you two and it's none of my business, but he's my friend." Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "So don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you. Don't make me hurt you."

Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the look in Shoko's tired eyes replaced by a certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll try not to."

Rain in Tokyo always seemed to take you by surprise, especially because you always forgot to check the weather before going out. It was something you weren't used to, but every time you were forced to run in the rain, you told yourself you'd remember next time.

With a plastic take-out bag in your hand and your leather purse covering your hair, you ran like hell through the sea of umbrellas. You looked at your watch once you reached the stop sign, sighing at the time.

10:45 a.m.

"Shit." You muttered.

You could still make it, you tried to tell yourself. As soon as the light changed and you were able to cross the street, you took off. The purse you held over your head hindered your movements, so you had decided to just let it hang by your side as you rushed through the streets, making your way back to the school.

After a few instances of almost slipping and a few assholes passing you with their cars and making it their business to splash you with the water pooled next to the sidewalk, you finally arrived, the food still safe in your hand. You reached the building, wet marks leaving a trail behind you, and you checked the time.

10:59 a.m.

Yes.

Finally reaching the classroom you wanted, you stood outside. Voices could still be heard from the inside of the room, relief washing over you as you decided you wait outside. Only you felt the cold sensation of your wet clothes, making you shiver unconsciously.

The door flung open, a group of teenagers stopping in their tracks as soon as they saw you. They looked at you, confused not only to see you there, but at the state of your clothes.

"Uh-" one of them tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Out. Now.”

With a quick pace, they left. You took a deep breath before venturing inside the room.

Satoru sat on top of a desk at the back of the room, eyes focused on his phone. He seemed to be typing a message, a mask of worry as he seemed to type and delete over and over again. You stayed by the door, words dying on your throat. What were you supposed to say? Should you just say hi and pretend everything is good even though you haven’t spoken in weeks? Or just go right to the point and apologize?

A ding from your phone brought back your attention, as well as Satoru’s. Your eyes widened, feeling as if you had gotten caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You reached for your phone, glad that it was still dry enough to still function.

A small smile formed on your lips.

Greatest Pain in the Ass

Hey, 10:01 a.m.

You looked back at him, a light rose tinge spreading through his cheeks.

“Hi.” You said with a shy smile.

“Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned, eyes scanning your appearance.

“It’s raining outside.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “You forgot to check the weather again?”

“Perhaps.” You answered, making your way to him. Once you reached the desk he was sitting on, you plopped down, opening the plastic bag you were carrying. You took out two honey lemon cold teas along with a couple of cheesecakes, two crepe rolls, and a package of sour candy.

“What’s this?” He asks as he grabs the tea.

You knew Satoru wasn’t going to be able to resist it, his sweet tooth always coming on top of everything.

“Take it as a peace offering.”

The sorcerer took off his jacket, handing it to you. You considered not taking it, but the shiver down your spine convinced you otherwise.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

In what seemed less than a minute, half the food is gone, the other half barely having a couple of bites. You sit in silence as you keep eating your cheesecake, occasionally sipping your tea.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You broke the silence, the heaviness in your chest lifting as soon as you said the words.

“Did you just say sorry?” Asked Gojo, too incredulous to your annoyance. You nod, eying him. “You? You said I’m sorry? The rain must be toxic.” You rolled your eyes at him, and in return, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his face filled with fake concern. “It must already be in your brain! No, please don’t die!”

“Alright, asshole. I get it.” You pulled yourself apart, completely annoyed by his antics. You take a sip of your drink; you knew you deserved it. “I really am sorry, though. I’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant and snapping at you back at Shoko’s.” You looked down to your hands, the feeling of shame creeping up over you. “I guess I’m sorry for being a dickhead in general to you, especially when you’ve been nice to me.”

“Why did you leave that day at the restaurant?”

“I—“ your words were caught on your throat. Should you lie? Tell the truth. Avoid the question? You looked at him, and even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking.

Tell the truth.

You took a deep breath. “I used to be with someone, a man older than me, and he was... he was involved in a bad world. He left for one of his jobs, and one day he didn’t come back; he simply disappeared.” You stopped for a second, a knot on your throat almost breaking your voice. “I came here to find him; look for any clues that might tell me what happened to him, but I didn’t find anything, not a single word about him.” A tear took you by surprise when it fell from your left eye. You quickly wiped it, as if that could clear out the pain your heart felt. “The guy that used to be his handler was at the restaurant; we saw each other, and he—“ you scoffed. “He thought we were on a date and that he was glad I moved on. After that, I just couldn’t stay; I felt as if I was betraying his memory, betraying him, and everything was just too much for me. I felt like I was drowning the more I stayed there, so I did the best thing I could; I ran.”

Another tear made its way down your face, but you stopped caring. No matter how hard you tried, the pain of losing him would always be there.

After you finished your explanation, seconds went by without any response, something you attributed to him processing your story, but you weren’t sure. It had always surprised you how volatile Satoru was, sometimes easy to read as a first grade book, and sometimes, like now, where you might as well be reading a forgotten foreign language.

“Is that why you always put yourself at risk?” He finally spoke.

“Yes.” You answered, a tinge of shame crawling up over you. “I had a plan, you know? I was fine dying doing this. I needed it.”

“What changed?”

“You, I guess. It’s very difficult to die when someone keeps getting in the way.” You chuckled to yourself, Satoru, not finding any humor in your words. “I don’t know; one day I woke up and I realized that I didn’t want to die. I also realized I like being here.”

He looked at you, and this time his eyes carried a sadness too big to bear. “Are you still looking for him?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I know he’s dead.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just feel it.” You shrugged. “I think I felt it the day he died; there was this painful and heavy sensation that got in my chest, and I couldn’t shake it off.”

“What would you do if you found the people that killed him?”

His question took you by surprise, as you didn’t expect it from him. You had thought about it a couple of times though, on long nights where you missed his presence and the scent was almost gone from his clothes. On nights you wished you had gone to Tokyo with him instead of staying back in Kyoto in your normal life. On nights you wished you could have his touch at least one more time.

“I’d kill them. And I’d make sure they would suffer.”

You both stayed in silence after that. A heaviness in the air had surrounded you, almost as if you had made things worse by telling him the truth. You knew that he wasn’t mad or disgusted by you, but there was a storm of thoughts going through his mind that made you wish you could read minds.

The silence was agonizing, and the longer it kept going, the more your chest would tighten. You wanted to break it any way you could, so you decided to ask a question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked back at you, coming back to reality. “Shoot.”

“Was that supposed to be date?”

He smiled, almost sadly, as he fixed his hair. For some reason you got the feeling he had something more to say to you, but after careful deliberation he gave you a simple answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

It was up to you.

God, why did he do that?

Was that what you wanted? Your mind was nowhere close to thinking about a relationship with someone else, let alone having a date. There were so many things wrong with you: dead boyfriend, inability to move on, active desire to die, walls so high up they could probably compete with the Great Wall of China. You had an attitude problem, a dangerous job, and you hated people getting too close to you. You were not looking to date.

But.

If you were going to have a date with anyone, the idea of it being Satoru didn’t bother you in the least.

Maybe you even liked it.

“I think I do.” You whispered.

You smiled at him.

He smiled too.

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but a ding of his phone interrupted him. With annoyance, he unlocked his phone, his fingers typing up a quick response before putting the device back in his pocket.

“C’mon, lets go.” He said as he put together the trash from your snack and threw it in the can.

You downed the rest of your sweet tea, throwing the bottle to the same can and getting it in the first try. Satoru turned around and gave you a thumbs up. You caught up to him with a little stride.

"Where are we going?”

“To your place so you can get changed.”

Right. You were still soaking wet from the rain. Suddenly you were hyperaware of the squeaking sound your boots made and the smaller but still present trail of water you left on your way.

“After that, we have to go to Shinjuku.”

“Alright.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for the first time since you met him, you didn’t slap his arm away.

“Wait, I have another question.” You said.

“What is it?”

“What did you text me for?”

“…”

“You were going to apologize, weren’t you?”

“I was not.”

"Yes, you were! Man, I should’ve taken longer buying all this shit.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. You apologized first, so I win.”

“Oh, so it was competition now?”

Your voices filled the empty halls of the building, the bickering between you not stopping even when you were on good terms. This time there was something different though, and as laughter began erupting from both of you, you were sure there was no going back to how things were before today.

You liked that thought.

—————

Pink petals fell from the sky, swept away by the chill winds of April. Groups of people were scattered around Ueno Park, admiring the beatty of hundreds of cherry blossom trees along with hanging lanterns that decorated the main path to follow. Conversations, laughter, and music filled the air, and once you walked further into the park, the smell of food reached your nose.

Satorus hand pulled you towards one of the food stands, making both of you wait in line for some croquettes. You looked down at your joined hands, entwined fingers and all, and your heart skipped a beat.

Coming to the Cherry Blossom Festival had been an impromptu plan. Satoru had just texted you to dress up for the night in something you found comfortable enough to walk, and 20 minutes later he had knocked on your door, a blanket on his shoulder and a small basket on hand.

You liked that about him. Most of your dates had been improvised, to a certain extent. It was either him wanting to do something right in the moment or with him barely giving you time, just like when he asked you to pick you up the next day.

He brought spontaneity to your life in a way that made you happy. Satoru brought a lightness with him that you didn’t think a lot of people saw and how you wished everyone could. Maybe then they could see past the confident facade he always seemed to carry, and instead they would find the human, annoying as ever but with a heart the size of the world.

After getting your food, you went to find a place to sit that would allow you to have some privacy. Gojo guided you over a no trespassing sign, and when you expressed your concern, he simply smiled.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

So you followed him until you found a good spot; there he extended the blanket while you put down the basket, making sure to take everything out. Petals fell all around you, and the darkness of the night enveloped you, except for the dim light of the moon and a couple of lanterns.

Everything was perfect.

Then his hand grabbed the side of your face, making you turn to him. He had taken out his glasses so the totality of his blue eyes were exposed. God, they were beautiful. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, a quick but intense glance. His hand traveled to the back of your head, almost as if they were asking for permission to go forward. You grabbed his arm, your finger giving him a slight caress.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you forget to stop breathing. He kissed you in a way that you felt every single sensation around you, yet the only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours. He kissed you, and you wanted more. You wanted everything.

He kissed you with desperation, like he had wanted this for a long time.

He kissed you, and you tasted his mint toothpaste along with something else you couldn’t place.

You pulled apart to face worried blue eyes, looking for a sign that perhaps you didn’t want that. He thought he might’ve overstepped his boundaries, and you were going to run away again.

You kissed him again to erase his doubts, and you knew it.

He tasted like the future.

Moans filled his bedroom. The squeaking of the bed pushing against the wall made you glad you were at his apartment instead of yours; if anyone had to deal with angry neighbors, let it be him. Satoru hadn’t even let you take off your clothes completely; instead, he had pushed down your underwear and lifted up your skirt, your underwear still hanging from one of your ankles.

Your face was facing a pillow, but you had heard him pull his pants desperately. He was big; he had warned you, but once the tip of his cock had tried to breach your entrance, your confidence in taking him had severely dwindled. He knew what he was doing though, his hands traveling in front of you, finding your clit.

A gasp left your lips, the coldness of his hand surprising you. He drew small, precise circles on it; every time he would hit a certain angle, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He knew what he was doing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that.” He whispered in your ear.

Electricity traveled all over your body, the anticipation of him finally being inside you driving you crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You panted, grinding all over his fingers.

You felt his hand smacking your ass. Hard.

He pulled your hair back, your head lifting from the pillow. “Don’t act dumb with me, princess.”

His lips found the right place on your neck, and the sensation of him sucking on it made your knees weak.

“You know this is my favorite skirt.”

Smack.

His fingers never gave you a rest; the longer they kept going, the more the pressure built inside you. Your skin felt on fire; every kiss, every caress, and every smack made you feel like you could almost cum. Satoru had a way of overwhelming your senses; you sometimes wondered if it was a side effect from his six eyes.

He went faster, fingers using your own moisture to slide all over your bundle of nerves. You were so close, your moans getting louder and louder. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You need it like a thirsty man needs water.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what, princess.”

“D-don’t stop, I’m so close.” You breathed.

So, so close, the coil inside you tightening, ready to snap.

He stopped.

“What the f—“ Your whine was cut short by his cock sliding inside of you.

He did it all at once, not giving you time to adjust. God, he was huge. With one sharp thrust, he was completely inside. You felt a little pain, but the overwhelming amount of pleasure you felt washed it away to the back of your mind when he started thrusting.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, his voice gruff as he digged his fingers on your hips.

Smack.

“Answer me, you little slut. You wanted my cock so bad?”

“Y-yes!” You were barely able to say.

Smack.

“You thought you could tease me all night.”

Smack.

“Grind your ass against me.”

Smack.

“Your fucking hand was under my pants while we were in that meeting. You thought that was fucking funny?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Fuck! No!”

His pace was relentless and punishing. He seemed like a wild animal who had just caught his prey. His thrust was too much; you found yourself pulling away from him, but strong hands pushed you back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He growled. “You wanted it so bad, now you have to take it.” A hand pressed your head against the bed, and you felt his left leg hoping on the bed.

You didn’t think he could reach deeper inside you. Once again, you were proven wrong. You couldn’t last longer, not when you felt the tip of his cock almost hitting against your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

“God, this pussy is perfect.”

He buried himself again and again and again until tears rolled down your eyes. He knew you were close.

“You’re going to come all over this cock, princess?”

A pathetic mumble resembling a ‘yes’ escaped your lips. That gave him the signal he needed.

This time his rhythm never stopped; consistent hard, deep, and quick thrusts punished your pussy over and over again. His grip on your ass tightened too; you were sure you would have marks on your skin tomorrow morning. He kept going, faster and faster; you heard moans that left his lips, and you were sure he was also close.

“Come on, baby, come all over this cock.”

That was all you needed to come undone.

He kept going for a couple of thrusts, rhythm gone as the desperation for chasing his high became bigger and bigger. His hands grabbed the sides of your hips, using them to bounce all over his cock. It was almost as if you were his own toy.

He came no long after that.

Both lay in bed, sweat covering your forehead and back as you gasped for air. Satoru was the first to stand up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to clean himself. You were too tired to move, so the sorcerer took it upon himself to clean you himself. The cloth felt weird against the raw skin of your pussy but the carefulness of his touch made it better.

The towel flew across the room, landing in an unknown location. After picking up the now crumpled-up sheet, he covered both of you with it, his arms bringing you to his chest. The bluest eyes in the world looked at you, admiring every inch of your face as his hand caressed it.

You took the lead this time, reaching to him for a kiss. Your lips touched his, and his lips parted slightly, allowing you to deepen the kiss, his hands burying themselves in your scalp, pushing you in as if the closeness that you had wasn’t enough.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy at night; your heart didn’t ache as you fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

“God, why the fuck did I listen to you?” You mumbled, dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Tokyo's city lights shone below your feet, the never-ending life of its streets still buzzing no matter how dark the sky was. The altitude you were in made the wind strong enough that you felt you were going to be swept away by it. The jacket you had brought was no match for the wind, your hands clenched on the material as if that would warm you more.

“Because it’s going to be fun.” Satoru said before kissing your cheek.

“Not if I freeze to death.”

Satoru stood next to you, tall, powerful, and beautiful, with his eyes free from the typical dark glasses. Even as you were at the edge of the top of a twenty-nine-story building, he seemed so nonchalant it couldn’t help but annoy you.

How could a man so annoying be so perfect?

How were you so lucky to have found two perfect men in your lifetime?

“You were the one that wanted to try this.” He laughed, a big smile on his face.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting for you to grab him back. Your hand went halfway before the corner of your eye caught how tall the building actually was. You had refused to look down for this very reason, but you couldn’t do anything now; your eyes were locked in.

What the fuck were you doing?

Fear settled in the pit of your stomach along with regret, as Satoru was right; you were the one that said you wanted to see how his teleporting worked. When you had asked him what his favorite part of it was, he answered free falling from a building and teleporting back to where he had started. And now, the longer you looked, the dizzier you felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I can’t do it. This is fucking insane.” The volume of your voice was an octave higher, but you couldn’t control it.

You began backing away until hands on your face stopped you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He said calmly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back and do something else.” He waited a moment, trying to see if you would back away, but you didn’t. “If you want to do it, though, you have to trust me; trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

He backed away, moving close to the edge. His hand reached out to you once more.

“Do you trust me?”

Your hand finally took his, trembling legs making their way to him.

You took a deep breath. You trusted him, even when your senses told you it was a bad idea. You trusted him even when your survival instinct fought hard to push you away from the edge.

You trusted him.

Wholeheartedly.

Fully.

Unconditionally.

You both jumped.

The rational part of your mind told you it had happened in a matter of seconds; it couldn’t have been more than four, considering the height of the building and the fact that you didn’t splatter all over the floor. For the other part of your mind, though, it was endless. You fell, and you fell, and you couldn’t stop falling; the floor was close but never close enough.

The scream that left your lungs made your throat ache, your chest rumbling as the scream kept coming and coming. Your heart wasn’t in your chest anymore; you were sure it had already exploded the moment your feet left the building. You were even surprised you were still breathing; your lungs didn’t seem to get enough air in them. You had heard how people that fall from skyscrapers die from heart attacks rather than the fall itself. Now you could see that happening; the longer you thought about it, the more you felt close to death. That was until you felt pressure on your hand. Satoru’s hand never left yours, even when you tried to pull your arms to your face, trying to cover your eyes from the ever-closing floor.

One moment you were in the air, and next you were back at the edge of the building.

Your legs failed, almost making you drop to the ground, but his arms were there to keep you steady. Miraculously, you still had a living heart, as you felt it’s beating on your ears every time. Gojo’s worried face gained your attention, his eyes scanning you as his lips moved, but his words never reached your ears. Only then did you finally process what had happened.

You had jumped from a building, and you had teleported back.

You were still alive.

The fear was quickly replaced by blinding excitement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like hot liquid fire, this time the trembling of your body caused by it. The sudden feeling that you could conquer the world overcame you; you wanted to do it again and again and again so you could feel like this forever.

A laughter came out of you, which initially had scared Satoru, but the more you laughed, the more he was sure you were ok.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You said as Satoru’s hands helped you stand up.

“I told you it was awesome.” He laughed along with you.

You jumped to his arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands traveled all over his hair, pulling it as you deepened the kiss. His hands brought you up, settling on your ass once your legs wrapped around his waist. Something in him was desperate for your touch, his hands holding you in place as both of you kept exploring each other.

You pulled away from him, excited to tell him you wanted to try it again, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s do it aga—“

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped this time.

You knew he had loved you for a long time. Every moment you spent together you could see it. His love was in everything he did. It was in the way he made you laugh, in the way he would make sure you’d have enough to eat, in the way he would buy your favorite snacks on the way to your apartment, on the way he would offer to do the dishes so you could go take a shower, on the way he would caress your face, his eyes screaming the words he didn’t dare to say. His love was everywhere.

A long time ago you had never thought you would love someone the way you had loved Toji, and in a way you were right. Loving Toji had been intense, warm, and comfortable; for a man so closed up to love, he had surprisingly shown you so much of it, even if it had taken some time for it. You had loved Toji first, and you had given him your unconditional love even before he knew your feelings. Loving Satoru was different; it was quick and unexpected, but most importantly, it made you feel alive. You had gotten used to the shell of yourself you presented to the world, something you had gotten comfortable with, but Satoru had managed to break it with his bubbly, eccentric persona. He had teared the walls you had built, little by little chirping them apart, until your heart could beat for someone again. There was no comparison between Toji and Satoru; they both had your heart forever, just in different ways.

He loved you even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

So how could you not love him back?

“I love you too.”

The smell of pancakes filled Satoru’s apartment, along with the sound of his tinkering around the kitchen. You stretched yourself along his bed, your skin welling the coolness of the expensive sheets he had. Your body was sore; the toll of yesterday’s curse, along with your nighttime activities with Satoru, had left you drained.

You stood up, using one of his shirts to cover up. The sight that welcomed you once you reached the kitchen made you laugh. Pans and food were scattered everywhere as the sorcerer went back and forth from the pans to the freshly made orange juice he was trying to make.

“Who would’ve thought pancakes and orange juice would be your one true enemy?” You chuckled.

He turned around to face you, his hands carrying a bowl with what you assumed was pancake batter. A shy smile adorned his face, which managed to swell your heart with love.

“It’s not my fault the instructions on the recipe weren’t clear; how was I supposed to know you had to grease the pan with butter?”

“I’m pretty sure every recipe says so; even then, it’s basic knowledge.”

You walked closer to him, reaching out to him for a morning kiss, but he backed away.

"Don't; I have a raw egg all over me.”

“Now, how did you manage to do that?”

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, going back to his duty. You propped yourself on top of one of the kitchen stools, looking at the white hair sorcerer finish cooking the last of the pancakes.

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. I was trying to bring you breakfast to bed, but I was sabotaged.”

“Sure you were.”

After a few minutes of cooking, the last of the pancakes rested well on top of the mountain he had created. The orange juice was now in a clear crystal jar right in front of you. It would’ve been a nice scenery if it wasn’t for the mess that tainted the background. Satoru began throwing everything in the sink in a rushed manner, his hand reaching out to grab the kitchen towel.

You stood up from your seat, snatching the towel out of his hand.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this?” You offered as you thought it would be uncomfortable to eat covered in eggs, flour, and orange juice.

He shook his head. “No, I had this whole thing planned and—“

You interjected “And I’m very grateful that you did this, but I also want you to enjoy breakfast. Besides, it’s just going to be a little cleaning. I promise, as soon as you get out, I’ll stop cleaning.”

Satoru, as stubborn as he always was, was about to refuse your help, but to his dismay and your amusement, his hand landed unspilled batter that covered a part of the counter. You tried to control your laughter, which only made it more obvious, earning an eye roll from the sorcerer.

“Fine, but no more cleaning as soon as I get out of the shower.”

You lifted your right hand. “I solemnly swear.”

He left the room with quick steps, the sound of his discarding his clothes echoing from his bedroom. You put yourself in action, focusing on just cleaning the counters as it felt like a more important task than tackling the mountain of dishes; Satoru could take care of that.

You were almost done throwing all the trash that you had gathered in the can when a ringtone surprised you. Satoru’s phone had somehow ended behind the toaster, and surprisingly, it had survived being stainless with all the food flying around it. You wiped your hands quickly before grabbing it, Ijichi’s name flashing on the screen.

“Ijichi is calling you.” You yelled at him, sure that he would be able to hear you even in the shower.

“I’ll call him back later.” He yelled back.

You put it in the counter, letting the call go to voicemail. You were about to keep going with your duties when the phone rang again—another call from Ijichi. This ringing kept going for a little while until it went to voicemail once more, then the texts came, one after the other.

A sudden heaviness installed in your stomach; maybe it was something important; it had to be for him to be so insistent. You grabbed the phone in your hands, typing the four-digit password to unlock it. Another message popped up on his screen, and you clicked on it.

Ijichi

I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Gojo, but we have a situation. 9:37 am

I wouldn’t be so insistent if it wasn’t serious. 9:37 am

Please get back to me as soon as possible. 9:38 am

It’s about the Fushiguro kids. 9:38 am

Fushiguro kids.

Fushiguro.

You dropped the phone; it’s screen is cracking as it touches the ground. It couldn’t be them, could it? There was no way Satoru had anything to do with those kids. Why would he? You had never even told him Toji’s last name, none the less told him about his kid and stepkid. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, a concerned look on his face as you walked towards you.

You gather all the strength you have, unsure whether the words will actually come out of your mouth without getting stuck in your throat. You looked at the floor, thinking it would be the only way you would be able to talk.

“Who are the Fushiguro kids?” Your voice was barely audible, the straining in it impossible to miss. You looked back at him, hoping to find his usual smile or perhaps just a confused look on why you were acting like that.

You hoped for anything that would tell you it wasn’t the same Fushiguro family you were thinking about.

Instead, wide, panicked, blue eyes looked back at you.

“I—“

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Satoru was thinking of an excuse—anything he could bullshit you to take away the anger that began simmering in you.

“Who the fuck are the Fushiguro kids?”

A heartbeat went by, then he answered.

“Megumi and Tsumiki.”

A scoff left your lips. Everything in the room was spinning, the beating of your heart pounding incessantly on your head. Millions of questions ran through your head, but you were unable to focus on one, each second passing you by and flooding you with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. Was this how it felt to be in his unlimited void?

“How do you know them?”

“Toji Fushiguro told me about Megumi.”

“Did you know who I was?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, not wanting to reveal himself, but there was no point in it, not anymore.

“Yes.”

“What—? How did you—?”

There it was, the same sadness you would sometimes catch behind his eyes. You had never dared to ask about it, sure that he would come to tell you with time. You had guessed it had to be with Suguru; the things you had asked about him earning almost the same sad look of losing his best friend.

But this wasn’t a sadness about losing someone. It was a sadness knowing everything would end as soon as you knew the truth.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

He couldn’t be the one.

Not Satoru.

“No.” You backed away from him, his presence digging a hole in your chest. “No, no, no, no.”

“Please, let me explain.” His hand tried to reach you but you slapped it away.

“What the fuck are you going to explain?” You screamed, the last syllables of your sentence breaking as tears pooled in your eyes. “That you fucking killed—“ you couldn’t even say the words; they tasted like vile rising from your esophagus.

“I’m sorry.”

Rage.

Pure, blinding rage.

Your senses, your body, your thoughts—everything was swarmed by rage. Your hand, almost like in automatic motion, punched the sorcerer square in the face, landing him across the room. His body left a dent in the wall; the few frames he had hanging were now broken apart, all scattered over the floor.

Before you could think about it, your hand had already reached out to your bag, taking out the knife Toji had given you. The shock from your hit had passed, and now Satoru stood up, a small cut on his cheek. You sensed him before he had even teleported, the sudden cursed energy surge behind you alerting you of his moves. You grabbed him by his throat, slamming him back down to the floor.

After spending time, you had learned to read every part of Satoru that involved his fighting techniques along with the signature of his cursed energy. You had learned everything that was to learn about the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now you were going to use it to finish him, even if you died.

You grabbed your knife, your cursed energy amplifying the one the object already owned, and you aimed it at his heart. You wanted him to feel the same pain he had caused you when he killed him, the pain he caused when he had lied to you. You were going to carve his heart out, and maybe then he could understand a fraction of what you were feeling.

His teleportation worked again, this time placing himself further away from you in the room. The tip of your knife crashed against the wood panels, leaving a dent in them.

“Please, stop.” He pleaded, the sorrow in his voice making your heartache ten times worse.

You didn’t stop; you couldn’t allow yourself to stop.

Your body smashed against his, knocking him down against the bed. Slash after slash he dodged, your knife unable to pierce his skin. In between movements, he kept pleading with you, the desperation in his voice increasing with each attempt.

Somewhere along the fight you saw an opportunity at his feet. You weren’t sure if it had been on purpose or maybe it was just a coincidence his guard wasn’t as high as you had expected, but you seized the moment, your arm managing to pin him against a wall.

The knife you held shoots up straight to his neck, the blade making contact with his skin. You were ready to slash a straight line along it, but the back of your mind told you something was wrong.

You could touch him. All along the fight, you had been able to touch him. The cut he had from your punch still bled slightly, another piece of evidence of your proximity to him. Every kick, every punch, and every tackle had made direct impact with his body.

Not once during the fight had he activated his infinity.

The blade dug on his skin, and a faint drop of blood trailed down his neck.

“Why the fuck aren’t you using your infinity? I could fucking kill you.” You screamed in his face, digging your knife deeper into his skin. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

A despairing smile showed on his face.

“Because I love you.”

Hot, salty tears cascaded along your face, the bridge of anger finally snapping as the sorrow took over everything you could feel. You couldn’t stop them; the more you tried to contain them, the bigger the hole in your chest grew.

He loved you, and you believed him.

You loved him back, and that love made you want to die. You couldn’t kill him no matter how much you pretended you wanted to; you knew you couldn’t survive losing someone that you loved again.

No matter how much you hated him at the same time.

You stood up, ready to grab your pants and bolt through the door. His hand stopped you, steading you in place.

“Please, don’t leave.” His begged, tears matching yours. “Please don’t leave me.”

Two bleeding hearts pleaded for each other that morning; one begged for forgiveness while the other begged to be put out of its misery. Both of them were entwined by the love they had for each other, along with the hurt they caused.

Yours was the only one that got what it wanted.

“Never contact me again. I’ll kill you if you do.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[admiringlove]

happy birthday, satoru. i'll miss you till the end of time <3

satoru hated birthdays.

it was the worst time of the year. the cold seeped into his bones, a biting chill that he couldn’t shake. the snow blanketed everything in white, a stark reminder of his own hair color, and somehow, that made it all worse. he despised it. there had never been a reason for him to celebrate the day—or himself. because, really, what did gojo satoru have to celebrate?

he had everything and nothing, all at once. the money to buy the world, but the loneliness that kept it out of reach. he could touch anything, yet he owned none of it. what was the point of a day like this? a cake he wouldn’t eat? a song no one meant?

so when the day inevitably arrived, he found himself sitting alone in his room at nine in the morning. his phone lay in his hand, his lips curling into a small, frustrated pout as he stared at the screen. he thought of you—your face flickering in his mind. you should’ve wished him, shouldn’t you? why hadn’t you? why did you act like it was just another day, like he was just another person? indifferent. casual. distant.

you treated him the same way you always did—sarcasm dripping from your remarks, soft laughter slipping out when geto cracked a joke, cigarettes shared with shoko in the courtyard after class. and then you left.

it seemed as though none of his friends had remembered. and that... hurt more than he thought it would.

all his life, he’d been gojo satoru. the greatest. the honored one. the six eyes and the limitless user. for centuries, no one like him had existed, and maybe no one ever would again. he’d grown up as an untouchable, a god among men. always alone. disconnected from the world, from people. he didn’t even know what it meant to have a home.

but then, he’d come here. to jujutsu tech. and for the first time, he’d found something close to it. he’d found you. he’d found geto. he’d found shoko.

he mutters curses under his breath the moment suguru offhandedly mentions that you’ve gone out shopping with shoko downtown. harajuku, shinjuku—somewhere that usually might have piqued his interest. but right now, he doesn’t give a shit. not one bit. there’s a bitter taste lingering on his tongue, acrid and sharp, and it fuels his growing disdain for the day. he hates it more than ever.

it stings, more than he’s willing to admit. he’d gone out of his way to make sure he remembered your birthday. marked it on his calendar, down to the exact time of your birth, noting your zodiac signs and all the little details that made the day special. he’d stayed up until midnight just to call you, to be the first to wish you. he didn’t want suguru or shoko to beat him to it. that was his thing, his privilege. and then there were the gifts—carefully picked, thoughtfully wrapped.

but you’d forgotten about him. suguru hadn’t even bothered to tease him in that usual, exasperated tone he used whenever gojo flaunted his privilege. not a single snide comment, no playful jabs to pull him down a peg. and ieiri, she hadn’t even called him a loser today.

the thought nags at him, digs deep, and refuses to leave. he sighs heavily, staring at his phone screen as if it holds the answers he’s searching for. it doesn’t. the clock reads four in the evening. the day’s more than halfway over, and no message, no call, no nothing.

the ache in his chest is unfamiliar. for someone who has everything, who could want for nothing, it’s maddening to feel this hollow. so he shoves his phone into his pocket and heads out. no grand plan, no particular destination in mind—just movement, something to distract him. eventually, he finds himself walking into a small convenience store.

he doesn’t linger inside for long, grabbing a tub of ice cream and a bag of chips. it’s not much, but it’s enough. stepping outside, he looks around before settling down on a bench. the city hums quietly around him, distant enough to blur into the background. he opens the ice cream, letting the cold sweetness melt on his tongue, and tips his head back to watch the sun begin its slow descent.

the sky burns with streaks of orange and pink, and the air carries the faintest chill. it’s beautiful, he thinks, in a detached sort of way. but it doesn’t fill the empty space inside him. not today.

he watches the children on the playground, their laughter carried by the wind like a cruel melody. the rhythmic creak of swing sets and the squeals of kids sliding down brightly colored plastic seem to taunt him, their joy a distant echo of something he’s never truly known. he wonders, not for the first time, if his life might have been better—different—if he had been born ordinary. if he hadn’t been crushed under the weight of the jujutsu world, its endless demands a noose around his neck, tightening with every passing year.

would he have laughed like that too? carefree, unburdened by the enormity of what it meant to be gojo satoru? would he have been one of those kids on the swings, arms pumping, head tilted back to touch the sky, surrounded by friends who giggled and cheered him on? would his nights have been spent poring over homework at a desk in a small, cluttered room instead of wandering through empty halls of power and responsibility? would birthdays have been spent in a warm kitchen, candles flickering on a homemade cake, his parents smiling as they sang to him? parents who actually loved him—not for what he could do, but for who he was.

his chest tightens at the thought, an ache that feels almost unbearable. the life he imagines is so vivid it feels like a memory, even though it isn’t. it’s a phantom of something he’ll never have, a cruel dream that slips further away every time he reaches for it.

the sky blushes a deep pink as the sun dips lower, casting a warm glow that he doesn’t feel. he lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back on the bench. he was always surrounded by people, wasn’t he? classmates, colleagues, admirers. even strangers whispered his name like a hymn. but it was never enough. because he wasn’t just anyone. he was the gojo satoru. the honored one. the six eyes. the strongest.

and yet, beneath the grandiosity of those titles, he was just a man. a man who’d learned too early that strength didn’t equate to connection, and power didn’t promise love. always lonely. always alone.

he starts to taste the wooden stick from the ice cream, its faint bitterness seeping onto his tongue. it tastes like birch. or what he imagines birch would taste like. sharp, dry, and entirely unpleasant. his face twists instinctively, and he sticks his tongue out slightly, as though that alone could rid him of the awful taste. the half-eaten bag of potato chips sits abandoned on the bench beside him, the grease staining the corners of the crinkled plastic. it stares back at him like an unspoken challenge, but he’s already lost interest. he doesn’t want it anymore.

he leans back, sighing heavily, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. the orange hues of the sunset feel like a mockery now; too vibrant, too alive for the quiet void curling inside him. at this point, all he wants is to retreat, to drag himself back to the dorms and sink into the familiar folds of his bed. the thought of his extra-fluffy blanket cocooning him is a small comfort, the idea of the springy, overstuffed mattress beneath him almost tempting enough to lift him off the bench.

but more than anything, he craves escape—not just from the day, but from himself. he wants to close his eyes and shut out the world, to drift into a dream where things are different. where the ache in his chest doesn’t exist. where he’s surrounded by people who care, people who love him. not for his strength, not for his name, but for who he is. it’s a small, desperate wish, one that he almost laughs at for its absurdity. but still, he lets it linger, lets it flicker softly in the quiet of his heart as he stares at the last rays of the setting sun.

and then the sun slips away completely, leaving the world cloaked in muted shades of dusk. the chill in the air deepens, and satoru pushes himself up from the bench, his joints protesting slightly. the bitter, almost metallic aftertaste of the ice cream stick lingers on his tongue, unwelcome and unpleasant. he straightens his back with a sharp breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he starts walking toward the bus stop.

he could call for a car—he always could. it would be easy, convenient, and expected. but something inside him whispers otherwise tonight, a quiet, stubborn voice that tells him to let it go. to adjust. to make do. wasn’t that his life now, anyway? constantly making do. growing used to the loneliness that clung to him like a second skin. learning to be fine with it because that’s what people expected of someone like him. unshakable. untouchable. always alone.

he boards the bus when it arrives, the engine humming low as the doors hiss shut behind him. the world outside becomes a blur of motion as he takes a seat by the window, his reflection faint against the backdrop of passing streetlights and shadowed figures. he watches the city move, people coming and going, lives intersecting in brief, fleeting moments. none of them look up at him. none of them notice him.

when his stop comes, he stands and steps off the bus, offering a quiet, almost reflexive thanks to the driver. the old man turns to him with a warm smile, lines creasing the corners of his eyes.

“take care, young man,” the driver says softly, and somehow, it catches gojo off guard. he walks away, the smile still lingering in his mind. it was small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but somehow, it mattered. a fleeting kindness from a stranger, given freely, without expectation. and as he makes his way back to the dorms, he thinks, maybe that made it all a little more bearable.

and as he walks through the gates of jujutsu tech, a strange stillness settles over him. the grounds are eerily quiet, too quiet. jujutsu tech is never this empty, not even on a sunday. normally, the halls would be alive with people returning from missions, chattering about their day or sharing meals. but now? nothing. his brows knit together as he moves toward the dorms, his footsteps echoing faintly in the silence.

no professors. no yaga pacing the halls, barking into his phone or reprimanding students for running. no clatter of footsteps, no laughter or voices bouncing off the walls. the absence is unsettling, and his instincts tell him something is off.

he was too drained to summon any of his techniques, but he let his eyes do the work anyway. as he approached the door to his dorm, his footsteps slow, his heartbeat quickening. there was energy inside—something different, something alive. it seeped through the walls, radiating warmth and anticipation, golden and electric. it wasn’t the cold, sterile energy he’d grown used to in battle; it was something softer, brighter. something he'd craved for as long as he could remember.

he stopped in his tracks, a sharp, shallow breath catching in his throat. his eyes widened, the familiar ache in his chest giving way to something foreign, something terrifyingly tender. he could see it—feel it. you. geto. shoko. nanamin. and more. the room was full, brimming with people whose energies pulsed with affection, with excitement, with care.

his chest tightened, and his heart raced faster than he could control. the pressure behind his eyes spilled over as a tear rolled down his cheek. it caught him off guard, the rawness of it. he hadn’t realized how much this meant—how much he’d needed this. his hands lifted to his face, swiping at the evidence of his weakness, his joy, his disbelief.

he opened the door.

the sound hit him first: a cacophony of cheers and laughter, the sharp crack of party poppers releasing confetti into the air. streamers dangled from the ceiling, colorful and haphazard, while the unmistakable scent of cheap pizza mingled with the sweetness of cake. balloons bobbed lazily in the corners, and a few cans of off-brand soda were scattered across the table. it was chaotic, vibrant, and so terribly them.

before he could process it all, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. his body stiffened for a fraction of a second, startled by the suddenness of your embrace, before a soft yelp escaped him, unbidden and raw.

“surprise!” everyone shouted in unison, their voices crashing over him like a wave, breaking apart the isolation he’d been drowning in all day.

he froze, eyes scanning the room. the decorations were clumsy, the food was far from gourmet, and the whole setup was almost comically thrown together. but it was perfect. they’d remembered. every single one of you had remembered.

because for the first time in what feels like forever, gojo satoru isn’t just the honored one. he’s just satoru. surrounded by the people who love him.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[saccharinesatoru]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (m)

Pairing: Gojo x reader (afab)

Genre: cowboy!gojo x bandit!reader + smut

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: You're just an innocent girl who got caught up in a crime. You've never broken the law before and are desperate to stay out of jail. Lucky for you, Sheriff Gojo has just the solution.

Warnings: language, coersion (lowkey highkey), oral (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), degradation, praise (like if you squint), penetration (m in f), just really rough sex lmao, maybe typos idk I didn't proofread this

a/n: surprisingly,,,, I'm not dead. i am back. i saw the fanart of cowboy!gojo and never wanted to ride something so badly- and i’m not talking about a horse. oh and i also know little to nothing about cowboys or even the time period that cowboys existed in so i’m sorry if i like,,, get the cowboy lore incorrect lmao enjoy

xx Jay

---

You were fucked. And, fuck, did you know it. 

“You idiot!” you cursed, “Do you wanna die? How could you be so stupid?”

Your partner in crime (literally) turned to you with a crazed grin on his face, high on the rush. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of some little sheriff.”

The sheriff, in question, is none other than Gojo Satoru. Not only was he the youngest sheriff in the region, but he was an incredible shot and phenomenal horseback rider. The man was known all throughout the west for his strength, wit, and impeccable skill as a marksman. And he just so happened to be the man hunting you down as you speak.  

“Am I scared? Am I scared?” you yell in disbelief, “Hell fucking yeah I’m scared! You just had to rob that bank, didn’t you? Toji, this is insane. We’re going to die, and it’s all because you wanted a little extra cash to blow at some saloon since you’re shit at cards and are always too drunk to make a reasonable gamble!”

His eyes widened at your statement, “I’m just down on my luck that’s all!” 

You roll your eyes and continue pacing around the small room, almost internally counting down the minutes until you're inevitably caught and thrown in a cell to rot. Maybe Toji could tough it out in jail (assuming he wasn’t hanged for his crimes), but you knew you weren’t cut out for that kind of life. It’s not like you meant to get caught up in this life, after all. A few bad decisions led to this nightmare of a reality, and now you were about to ride this sinking ship with the buffoon in front of you who was pushing 40 and still thought it was a good idea to devote the little cash he had on reckless gambling instead of caring for the adorable, perpetually scowling son he left behind to pursue a life of crime. 

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” his tone is sickly sweet but showing no real affection or warmth. “Don’t forget that you’re an accomplice in this crime too. Who was in the carriage waiting for me when I ran out of the bank with the cash, huh? Oh, that’s right! It was you!”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sit down and rest your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me, asshole,” you spit out, tone equally as harsh. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t know you were gonna do that shit! I owed you a favor- one favor, Toji! What, you think because I owed you one, I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the most feared sheriff in the west? Believe it or not, but I don’t want to live this way!”

He huffs and sticks a cigar in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a puff of smoke before meeting your eyes again, “Well, tough shit, doll. This is the hand you were dealt, and now you’ve gotta decide whether or not you’re gonna fold.”

You roll your eyes, sensing a migraine coming on. “Shut the fuck up with your poker references, Toji. You’re not good enough at any card game to warrant that kind of talk.”

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You turn around and are about to rip into him when you hear the sound of incoming horses and a voice call out, “They’re just up ahead!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Toji curses as he puts out his cigar and stands up hastily. He looks around the room frantically and meets your eyes before darting out of the shared space.

“Fuck! Toji, come back!” you shout as you rush after him. You’re not all that well-versed on running from the police given you’ve literally never had a reason to do so. To say you’re relying on Toji to get you two out of this predicament is an understatement. After all, that man has committed more crimes than interacted with his own son. 

Running out of the room and following his footsteps, you exit out the backdoor. Your jaw drops to the ground at the sight in front of you. Toji sat on top of your very own horse, grabbing her by the reins and turning to you with a devilish smirk on his face. “Sorry, doll, I gotta cut ties here. ‘Can’t afford to get caught, you know? I’m sure you understand. Let me borrow your horse, yeah? I owe ya one.” 

You can’t even fully process his words, you’re seeing red with the amount of rage consuming you. Frozen in place, you watch Toji ride away on your horse, effectively abandoning the house that was about to be raided by police. 

Toji gets a fair distance away from the house before you hear the same voice yell, “There he is! You lot track him down. I’ll stay back and search the rest of the house. He had an accomplice. I’m sure they’re hiding out here somewhere.”

As soon as the man is done speaking, you hear multiple horses run off in Toji’s direction. You’re scared shitless of what’s to come. You just know the man about to search the house is the famous sheriff you had just been professing your fear of to that backstabbing bum who stole your fucking horse. Even though you know you’re thoroughly, laughably, undeniably fucked, you can’t help but laugh internally at the thought of Toji being captured by the sheriff’s men. You hope they don’t hurt your horse, although you doubt she’ll be yours much longer since you’re about to be sent off to jail. 

Cutting your losses and acknowledging defeat, you walk back into the house, ready to face the renowned sheriff. Walking back into the kitchen, your footsteps alert the man of your location, and he makes his way into the room. 

If you weren’t scared out of your mind at what’s to come, you might have started drooling, honestly. If this man weren’t known for his near superhuman abilities, he would have been known for his looks alone. You had never seen or even heard about a man that looked like him. He had bright white hair that peaked out from his hat. His skin was so fair and beautiful you swore he was made of porcelain. His lips were a pretty pink that somehow had a glimmering shine to them. He wore black denim with a black button up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his large hands and delectable arm veins. For a reason unknown to you, he wore a blindfold over his eyes. You could only wonder what his eyes looked like, although you imagined they were as beautiful as the rest of him. 

He looked unreal. This whole situation felt unreal. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that you were about to be arrested let alone the fact that you were standing in a room with a man that looked like that.

“Well, well,” Gojo chuckles, “Here I was thinking Toji’s accomplice had to be some ugly brute with a tobacco addiction. But here you are instead.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet out of nerves, “I- I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He laughs fully this time. “And a sense of humor, too? What did Toji do to get you roped into this in the first place, huh?”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. It’s like he could see right through you. Was it that obvious that you didn’t live a life of crime? You suppose it’s times like this where your naturally expressive face and body language actually benefited you, as Gojo must have known about the true nature of your involvement just by the way you reacted to his presence. 

“I, um…” you tried to pick your words in a way that made you look the least guilty of committing a crime. “I only agreed to help him since I owed him a favor…”

This seemed to pique Gojo’s interest. “Oh? And what did the lying, deceitful, manipulative, gambling addict do to earn a favor from a pretty girl like you?”

Your face flushes when you process his words. Warranted and accurate insults about Toji aside, the human embodiment of perfection called you pretty. 

You must have been frozen in place for a second or two because when you blink again, Gojo is standing closer to you and leaning inward, “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

Eyes widening, you nod your head vigorously and elicit another chuckle from the man. 

“Well,” you sigh after being able to mentally calm yourself, “he helped my family in a tough situation. My mother was very sick, and Toji just so happened to have the proper remedies to heal her…”

Although you can’t see his eyes, you can tell that Gojo raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and his silence prompts you to continue.

“Believe me, I never wanted to help him out. Or, at least, when I agreed to help him, I had no idea he was gonna drag me into this mess. But I couldn’t just walk around my house and pass by my mother without thinking that, if it weren’t for that lunatic, she wouldn’t be with us anymore.”

Gojo hums and brings his hand to his chin as if in thought. “I bet your family would be pretty disappointed to see you now though, right? Doing all this for your mother is admirable, but you still committed a crime… What kind of sheriff would I be if I just let you off the hook because you told me some sob story and batted your eyelashes at me, hm?”

You didn’t know how to react to his words. Sure, he’s right, your family would be disappointed to see you in this position. You’d never gotten into any sort of trouble before- certainly never done anything illegal. 

“You thought you owed a simple favor, sure… But last time I checked, the pathway to heaven wasn’t paved with good intentions.” he tuts. “But jail time seems a little harsh, no? What do you think we can do to solve this little problem?”

Your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if Gojo could hear it from where he stood. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ve never broken the law before, and I can’t afford to leave my family and go to jail.”

“Anything, huh?” Gojo smirks and pulls down his blindfold to reveal the most striking, beautiful eyes you had ever seen in all your life. “Well, how could I turn down an offer like that?”

You almost didn’t even process his words since you were so stunned by his eyes. In your entire life, you had never seen such a bright, beautiful, magnificent shade of blue. You had seen blue eyes before, sure. But, like the rest of his appearance, his eyes looked mythical. 

“Quiet all of a sudden, huh? No ideas for your substitute form of punishment?” The young sheriff walks around you like a shark circling its prey before the bloody, inevitable attack. “You’re in luck, sweetheart, because I’ve got just the perfect penance for ya.”

Before you could get out a word, he’s behind you and pulling you flush against his firm chest. You let out a soft squeak at the sudden sensation and move to bring your hand to your mouth to prevent any other embarrassing noises from spilling out. Gojo notices your timid movement and quickly wraps an arm around you.

“Nuh uh,” he says in a sing-song tone, “part of your punishment is letting me hear all those pretty little noises of yours, do you understand?”

You nod repeatedly in acknowledgement and remain stiff in his hold, unsure of how to react next. You weren’t entirely dumb. Were you dumb enough to help Toji commit a crime? Yes. But you weren’t so dumb that you didn’t understand what Gojo was hinting at with his little punishment “substitution”. The thought was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. If you had a stronger constitution, you might have just denied Gojo and accepted jail time instead. But, here you were, helpless in his arms and doing your damnedest to keep from embarrassing yourself any further.

Gojo runs his free hand from the top of your shoulder all the way down to your hips. “Such a soft, dainty thing, aren’t ya? Caught up in all of this and so, so desperate for a way out… It’s no wonder why Toji played with you like the toy you are…”

You shiver in his hold. 

“You see, my eyes can be quite sensitive. But now that my blindfold is off…” he leans in closer and inhales against your neck, taking in your sweet scent that he could practically smell the nerves radiating from. “I’ve got a better view of this pretty, little toy. And I’m just dying to play with her.”

He removes the arm from around your waist and begins to unbutton your flannel at a leisurely pace that has you both shaking in your boots (quite literally) while also wishing he’d hurry up and just rip the shirt open completely.

“Never wanted Toji to…” you pause, embarrassed to finish your sentence.

Gojo continues to undress you and just hums against your neck while his long fingers continue their work. “Never wanted Toji to… what, sweetheart?”

You swallow, “Never wanted Toji to… to play with me.”

The young sheriff raises his eyebrows and sports his signature smirk, “Oh, is that so? Does that mean you want me to play with you?”

Clearing your throat, you nod once more, “I’m just trying to follow the law, sir.”

He laughs at that and finally pulls your shirt open and off your body, revealing your bra-clad chest. “Follow the law, huh? Is that what they call it nowadays?” He removes your shirt altogether and undoes the clasp of your bra with almost concerning expertise. “Well, better late than never, I suppose. Maybe you’ve learnt your lesson already… Although, I better punish you further to make sure you don’t forget- just in case.”

Once your torso is completely bare, Gojo spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours. You let out a gasp, and Gojo’s tongue uses the involuntary noise as an invitation to push into your awaiting mouth. 

You’ve kissed your fair share of men before, though most were drunken kisses at saloons that you almost immediately regretted. Kissing Gojo was unlike anything you had ever experienced- practically everything about him was a foreign sensation, honestly. His lips alone had you feeling like you were vibrating, and the faint taste of strawberries on the tall man’s lips left you just as breathless as the kiss made you feel. 

He brings his large hands to your hair and tugs against the strands, making you moan deeper into the kiss. His lips are hungry against yours, and he eats up each and every sound you make from the smallest of whimpers to the sudden gasps. 

You reluctantly pull back for the kiss and look him in the eye, half-lidded and hazy already. “May I… touch you too?” you ask timidly. You’re hoping more than anything he’ll say yes since your fingers are itching to feel even more of him against your skin. 

His lips turn upward slowly, and he removes his hands from your hair. You let out a whine at the loss of contact, but he quickly grabs your hands and brings them to his chest. “Look at you, all polite and obedient. Better late than never, huh?”

He pulls you back into a searing kiss and you move your hands freely along his toned body. He might as well be made of marble with how firm he feels beneath you. When you bring your hands to his hair and run your fingers along the nape of his neck, he groans and brings his hands down to cup your ass which elicits a whine from you. 

He pulls away this time and before you have time to complain, your breath is taken away by the sight in front of you. He pulls open his shirt and quickly removes his belt. Once the belt is off his waist, he pulls it apart with both hands making a snapping noise. His gaze falls to your hands and you wordlessly offer them to the sheriff. He makes quick work binding your wrists with the fabric. “Just like the handcuffs I’ll save for Toji,” he grins and unbuttons his pants. “On your knees for me, honey.”

You fall to the floor, too hungry for him to worry about looking desperate. He chuckles at your reaction and pushes his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs up and slaps his toned stomach.

Although your sexual experience was next to nothing, you knew that Gojo’s cock had to be the prettiest one in the world. You didn’t even need to see another man’s physique to make that conclusion. Hell, you were never the overtly sexual type, but Gojo’s cock basically had you drooling. 

He laughs at your hungry expression. “See something ya like, sweetheart?” 

You nod quickly at his question which draws another chuckle from him. “Well, don’t keep me waiting then. Open that mouth of yours and let’s see if it’s as good at sucking me off as it is at getting you out of trouble.”

You eagerly dive in and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Fuck. He tastes as good as he looks. 

Moaning at the flavor on your tongue, you continue to suck on the tip as if it were your favorite candy. He groans at the sensation but breathes out, “I know you can do better than that, pretty girl. You don’t wanna end up in jail, do you?”

Your eyes widen at the statement, and you quickly take him deeper in your mouth. Bobbing your head quickly, you try to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. No matter how much you hollow your cheeks or hold your breath, you can’t manage to fit him all in your mouth. 

How could you? He’s massive. 

To say he’s bigger than any man you had ever been with before doesn’t do justice to how large his cock is. Even when you force him in your mouth to the best of your ability, you’re not even halfway down his length. Every now and then, you keep wanting to reach up and wrap your hands around him before you remember they’re restrained by his belt.

That doesn’t keep you from sucking as if your life depended on it- which it pretty much does. 

Gojo pulls your hair back in a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head down deeper. “Come on, sweets. Take it allll the way.”

You choke around his cock and tears well up in your eyes. Gojo begins to fuck into your mouth and groans loudly, the sounds echoing throughout the empty house. You really wish Gojo would have taken off your pants before you began sucking him off since you feel the increasing discomfort of wetness between your legs confined by denim. 

“Between you and me,” Gojo huffs between moans as he picks up his pace, “I’m glad that Toji didn’t get to see you like this. A dick like him doesn’t deserve a mouth like yours.”

Your eyes roll back at his comment. Desperate for some relief, you rub your thighs together and hope that the friction will alleviate some of the pressure. The young sheriff notices your movement and scoffs. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you some manners? Rubbing those thighs together like some common whore at the saloon?”

You let out a muffled whine at the comment. His words go straight to your cunt and only make you wetter than you already were. He laughs again as if he could sense the impact his words had on you. 

The tears in your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks as the speed of his hips increases even more. “Is that tight little throat of yours ready, sweetheart?”

You try your best to nod despite his massive cock ramming into your open mouth. His breath quickens before he groans loudly and hot cum shoots down your throat. You can help but moan at the sensation too. Your jaw was sore, but the taste of him was definitely worth the discomfort. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo tuts, “Don’t swallow just yet, pretty. Let me see that mouth I just filled.”

Looking up at him with wide eyes, you show him the contents of your mouth and frantically bring your fingers to your lips when some of his cum begins to dribble down your chin. Gojo chuckles at the sight and gently closes your mouth. “Go ahead and swallow every drop, sweetheart. You’ve earned it,” he smirks. 

You greedily swallow the salty substance and even open your mouth again to show him you had done what he asked. 

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” Gojo smiles. “But we’re not through with your punishment just yet, pretty. Up against the counter.”

You clumsily rise from the floor and stumble to the counter. Your eagerness makes the man laugh. Once against the hard surface, Gojo bends you over and reaches around to unbutton your pants. Your efforts to contain your excitement don’t go unnoticed by the sheriff as he catches you rubbing your thighs together once more which just makes his cock grow hard once more. 

When he finally pushes down your pants and panties to the floor, he stares at your pussy for what feels like ages. Instinctively, you begin to close your thighs out of shyness. “Oh, no you don’t, sweetheart.” He firmly shoves your legs apart once more. “You’re gonna stay nice and still while I play with this pretty pussy. And if you wanna be a brat instead, then I’d be more than happy to give you this punishment down at the station. Would you and this soaking cunt like an audience?”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” you speak quickly, “I’m just not used to men…touching me there.”

Gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, “You mean that no man has ever done… this?” He runs a digit against your folds and you squeak at the feeling. 

“Or… how about this?” Gojo licks a long stipe up your cunt that has you squealing involuntarily. You shake your head as heat rises to your cheeks. The sheriff hums at the revelation. 

A pretty little slut like you hasn’t had her equally pretty pussy played with before? 

It must be his lucky day. 

“Guess you’re in for a treat then, darlin.” Gojo dives right in with his tongue, and you’re unable to conceal your loud moans even if you tried. The way he flicks his tongue against your clit has you practically seeing stars. None of your past sexual partners had ever taken the time to prioritize your pleasure. And after so many disappointing hookups, you ultimately gave up on sex altogether. 

But this changed everything. 

The way his tongue sucked and licked your sopping pussy was nothing short of magic. You had no idea you could even feel this good until now. Gojo’s tongue against your cunt made up for every underwhelming hookup you had ever had. And now that you know what it feels like, you’re hooked. 

“Fuck,” you whine, “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop, sheriff.”

The man hums against your pussy and suddenly pushes a finger inside you. You cry out a wanton moan at the sensation and barely have time to adjust before he shoves another digit inside. The two fingers piston in and out of you at a rapid pace. Gojo pulls away from your pussy and you whimper at the loss.

“My, what a dirty mouth you’ve got,” Gojo teases. “Maybe I’ll have to fuck that mouth of yours again just to clean it.”

You instinctively tighten around his fingers over his comment and he emits a loud laugh. “Your cunt is so honest. You don’t even have to speak, because this pretty pussy talks for herself.”

He removes both fingers from you and instead uses them to rub your clit as he shoves his tongue back into your pussy once more. The coupled sensation of his fingers and his tongue has your eyes rolling back and your hands balling tightly into fists. 

Finally snapping out of your daze and able to speak, you whine out, “I’m so close, Gojo. Please let me cum.”

Gojo pulls away for just a second to command, “Cum all over my tongue like the dirty whore I know you are.”

Your scream rings throughout the house as your climax crashes upon you. Your legs are shaking so badly that you almost collapse, and it feels as if electricity is in your veins with the buzz you feel. 

Barely comprehensive, you whimper as Gojo removes his tongue and fingers. Although you can barely stand and would undoubtedly fall to the floor if he continued his attack on your pussy, you already missed the feeling more than you’d like to admit. 

When you finally snap out of your orgasmic daze, you feel Gojo pressed against your backside. 

Fuck. 

If Gojo felt big in your mouth, he felt fucking gigantic against your pussy. It’d be like ramming a train through a keyhole. But even though you knew he’d fuck you within an inch of your life, you felt more arousal trickle down legs just at the thought of it.

He grabbed your hips firmly and lined up the head of his cock against your lips. Dragging his cock up and down your slit, he spread your arousal. 

“Please no teasing,” you beg. “If I have to wait any longer, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, “If I weren’t just as eager to fuck this tight little pussy, I’d give you another punishment for being so damn bratty and impatient.”

Clenching his jaw, he slowly pushes the tip in and hisses at the feeling on your warm walls. You can’t help but gasp at the penetration. He’s only stuck the tip in, yet it feels huge. 

After only a moment of keeping the tip within your heat, he all but shoves the rest of his cock inside your weeping pussy. Gojo leans over your back and groans in your ear and you all but scream at the intrusion. 

Before you have time to catch your breath, Gojo begins jackhammering into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears quickly form in your eyes and drool spills from your lips. He’s just began fucking you and you’re already cockdrunk. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” He moans loudly. “How are you so fucking tight?”

You’re unable to form words as he pistons his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the house, and you have no doubt that people would be able to hear you all the way from the end of the street. His grunts and groans harmonize with your moans and whimpers. 

He uses one hand to gather your hair and pulls you against his chest. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but look at you,” Gojo grunts. “You’re loving this. You may look the part, but that good girl routine is all an act. Once a whore, always a whore.”

All you can do is whine at his words, unable to form words to respond with. Gojo laughs at the dumb look on your face. 

“What’s that saying? “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time”. And, honey?” Gojo says between moans. “I’m gonna enjoy taking my time with you.”

Beyond what you thought possible, his thrusts increase in their intensity. He’s hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. To say you feel him in your guts doesn’t even come close to describing the sensation. All you know was that you had never felt so full in your entire life. 

“Gojo!” you cry out after a particularly rough thrust. 

The man smiles with a crazed look in his eye. “Oh? Pretty girl can talk now? I must not be fucking you hard enough then.” 

He reaches his hand around your waist and begins furiously rubbing little circles on your clit which has you screaming at the top of your lungs. Your brain was fried at this point. All you could think about was Gojo, Gojo, Gojo…

In your fucked out haze, you tried to maintain your hold on the counter since your legs were going to give out any second now (and Gojo’s grip on your hair was the main source holding you up). The counter top beneath you was covered in your tears and drool, and your bound hands could hardly get a grip on the surface. 

Gojo just continued his aggressive pace as he clenched your hair tightly in his hand. “The idea of Toji trying to get a piece of you just makes me sick,” He spits out. “As if a pathetic criminal like him deserves to feel this cunt.”

Even though nothing romantic or sexual ever transpired between you or Toji, Gojo practically saw red at the mere thought of the older man ever touching you. Though your paths hadn’t crossed officially until this point, Gojo can’t imagine any other man laying a hand on you. Insanely enough, he sped up the speed of his fingers in jealously over the hypothetical situation. 

“G-Gojo, I can’t-” you attempted to string together words. “S’too much.”

He coos in mock sympathy, “Aw, baby can’t take it?”

You just whine in response, so out of your mind with how deep he is inside of you. 

“Well, that’s too bad, sweetheart,” He grunts. “Because this lesson’s not over with just yet.”

Unable to keep your head up, you let it slump down as far as Gojo’s grip on your hair will allow. And just when you think (as much as you even can think with him pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy) the feeling couldn’t get any stronger, Gojo’s tip hits that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, my god! Fuck, Gojo!” you sob. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t take anymore! I’m gonna cum!”

He continues to ram against your G-spot over and over again until you’re sure your brain is melting. “Go ahead and cum all over cock. Be a good slut for me and show me that you’ve learnt your lesson.”

When the coil in your stomach breaks, you scream at the top of your lungs and squirt all over Gojo’s cock, soaking both of your jeans. You don’t even get a second to recollect the broken pieces of your brain because Gojo continues to fuck you like it’s his last day on Earth. 

“Fuck, did you just soak my jeans, sweetheart?” He half laughs, half groans. Quickly approaching his climax too, he clenches his jaw and furrows his eyebrows. “I’m gonna fill you up, and you’ll tell me what you learnt from this punishment as my cum is dripping out of you.” 

His words go in one ear and out the other. All his words sound like gibberish to you. You feel like you’re going to pass out if he continues at this rate. 

Gojo swears and his hips stammer before he shoots ribbons of cum into your tight pussy. You swear you feel your stomach begin to bloat with the amount he gives you. 

Your body goes limp against Gojo’s, and he holds you up before you collapse. You both whine when he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum trickles out of your messy cunt and runs down your shaking legs. 

You’re still on cloud 9 (no, you’re on cloud 100 at this point), and to say your vision is blurry is an understatement. No amount of booze at the saloon could have you drunk like this. 

“Gojo,” you practically slur.

Still out of breath, he manages to laugh at your thoroughly fucked out state, “I know, sweetheart, I know. Look at that cunt, all pretty and sloppy with my cum. Whatta sight for sore eyes…”

He turns you around to face him and holds on to your weakened form. 

“Now,” he begins. “What did you learn from your punishment?”

He could have asked you for your own name and you wouldn’t know the answer. He might as well have filled your skull with cum the way not a single thought was swimming around in your brain.

“I…sorry…” you stutter in confusion. “And Toji…”

Gojo sighs condescendingly. Even though he asked the question, he knew you’d never be able to answer. That was the goal all along. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart… But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” Gojo sighs with a mocking pout to match yours. He pulls you closer and you snap out of your daze with widened eyes as you feel his hardened cock once more. “I guess I’ll just have to teach the lesson again.”

---

lmao uhhh yeah there we go if you made it this far thanks for reading <3

taglist: @browniebigga @ourfinalisation @idolingalong

[coffee-and-geto]

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY PANTIES?”

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: in a lazy, hot summer afternoon, it’s your boyfriend’s turn to do the laundry. but why doesn’t he respond when you’re asking where’s your panties?

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, gojo is your boyfriend, needy! gojo, cute! gojo, fluff, nipple play, panties sniffling, masturbation (m), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, sex (p in v), also based on a @/yunonoai’s comic!

wc: 2,128

“Babe, can you do the laundry? I have a call.”

“Sure,” Satoru replies, standing up from the couch where he was lazily lying down, chilling out in front of some tiktoks.

He steps towards the bathroom, the laundry hamper waiting for him to be emptied and washed. With a resigning sigh, he looks down at the heap of dirty clothes. One of them overhangs them all: your favorite panties — the one he bought you last month. 

The lace surrounds with finesse the satin fabric of your favorite color.

So how can he not be hard at the only sight that reminds him how long you both haven’t had sex?

Fuck.

His breathing becomes heavier, each inhaling being a trial to not pay attention to the prominent bulge swelling down his gray jogging pants. Of course, the memory of your whimpers will always be like music to his ears, the fwap sounds of his cock buried deep, so deep, inside of your wet pussy, and his balls, so much filled with his cum and tightening when he's about to climax, slapping against your ass at each pound into you.

He is grouching now, at the edge of whining in need of your full attention — but of course, you needed to have a call at this very moment.

His hand twitches to his crotch, palming his already hard erection through the soft fabric of his pants, electricing at quiet moans, Satoru’s beautiful face wincing in pleasure. He swallows thick, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gives in. With messy movements, he lifts up his black shirt to grab the hem at his watering mouth and muffle his cute sounds between his clenched teeth and jaw. The fresh air blow at his hard abs, making him tensing his belly with scorching skin.

His big, calloused hand fiddles with his erection, so ready to free himself from the torturous sensation of your pretty panties, which he holds between his fingers and brings to his nose to inhale your scent, which makes him like a little puppy for you. Satoru utters a desperate whimper and finally buries his hand under his clothes to release his quivering cock.

It’s much bigger than usual, beads of precum glistening on the angry red tip, and veins sinuating the flesh. Of course, it’s perfect. That’s why it will never seem strange to anyone to see him stroke himself. He lazily fucks his tight fist, picturing your sweet pussy as he closes his eyes, beads of sweat leaking from his temples a flush spreads all over his cheeks.

His length girth throbs between his digits, coursing waves of lust through him as Satoru quickens the pace, as the same as his heartbeat. Saliva damps the fabric of his black shirt, and the idea of substituting the hem of his shirt with your panties carries out straight away, increasing his arousal until it’s twitching in a maddened way. With each stroke, the pre spreads along his shaft to allow it to be lubricated, at the point that if you all of a sudden show up in the bathroom, you both can skip the foreplay but damn!

“Toru? Did you see my panties?” Your voice echoes through another room.

But he doesn’t answer anyway.

“Fuck,” he grunts in a quiet whine, “miss you so much, babe.” His balls tighten, following the next moment — and it doesn’t take that much time he expected, because a few seconds after he twists his wrist in an upstroke movement — the exact way you’d do to him — he’s already cumming on the heap of laundry, dirtying them even more they already were, puddles of a viscous liquid, spreading out in droplets as the orgasmic peak subsides.

Panting heavily, he doesn’t hear you burst into the bathroom as you exclaim, “Satoru? You serious? Look at the state of the laundry now!”

With a swift gesture, he removes your panties from his mouth and turns his head suddenly towards you. He’s unable to justify himself and simply watches your disapproving pout ruffle your pretty lips. “Sorry babe, I'll clean it up.” He also notes how your mere presence makes him hard immediately despite having softened a moment earlier with the moment of “relief” he wished to provide for himself.

“Where are my panties?” you ask a second time as you rummage, eyebrows furrowed, through the basket of dirty laundry.

Satoru rubs the back of your neck nervously and hesitates to hide your underwear in his palm. “Uh... here,” he murmurs softly, slightly discomfited as you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“You’re that much needy?”

Satoru looks down, a little boyish pout on his lips that breaks your heart. “Sorry...”

Your frown softens. “Oh, um— No, Toru, please don’t gimme that look,” you whisper, walking over to him, your hands instinctively cupping his cheeks to make him look down at you. “I’m sorry, my love. You need to tell me when you need me, okay?”

Satoru nods slowly, still guiltily pouting. “Can I have you? Please? Just one round, I swear I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs.

His request makes your lips curl up. “My boy does want me? You’re cute, almost begging like this.” You graze a kiss on his cheek. “Get on your knees.”

“Like that?” His knees make contact with the floor, his cock still outside his dangling jogging suit. He so fucking cute, listening to you so obediently.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding pants down your thighs. Your black panties hug the swell of your hips, your intoxicating scent spreading toward Satoru’s nostrils.

He moves towards you using his knees to grip your hips and sniff your scent once more. The action makes you giggle so much that it makes you suck in a breath when he pulls down your underwear to kiss your groin. “Love you,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, please.”

“Satoru, just wait I—” But he cuts you off, darting out his tongue to lick a strip enough to feel your bundle of nerves. A moan escapes your lips, driving your breath as crazy as he’s doing with his skillful mouth.

“You’re dripping,” Satoru comments, kissing your lower lips swiftly before grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, dropping you off the washing machine. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled, all needy and flushed to eat you out.

And how long he hadn’t—

It’s like he’s drunk on you, ignoring your moans and whimpers as he rests his cheeks on your inner thigh to wrap his wrist around your thighs. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your thighs, trapping you firmly. “Keep ‘em spread, baby,” he purrs, lapping your soaked core and sensitive, puffy clit. “It tastes s’good, I’ve missed you.”

His dick twitches and throbs afterward, your sweet sounds re-hardening him and making him more swollen than he was even after the few rubs he did to relieve himself.

“Hmm, ah, Satoru, you—” you trail off, throwing back your head against the wall, your hands grabbing the washing machine’s edge until your knuckles turn white. “I’ll be close, I—” you babble, and the realization of how much not having sex with him for so long is turning you into a virgin-like. And also, the clenching feeling of your pussy, lips parting and closing around nothing hits you so hard.

You need to cum on his cock.

“Satoru, stop,” you gasp, your fingers snaking gently through his white lock and tugging them carefully.

He stops the moment after your whine reaches his ears — a sound ringing like music to his ear. “But… I haven’t made you come yet,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly with his forefinger and middle finger. His cute pout is now begging you to give him grace.

“I want to cum on your dick,” you clarify, leaning in, your lips pressing down a gentle, loving kiss on this beautiful forehead of him.

“You sure? I haven’t stretched you beforehand.” He rises from his former crouching position and holds his sensitive length closer to your core.

“I don’t mind, I just want you right now,” you blow out, kissing his free hand.

Satoru blushes — and oh, how can anyone fall in love with this cute little face you want to madly shower with cuddles and kisses? “Can we put it in while I kiss you?” he requests, bringing his lips closer to yours.

You let out a little laugh, pressing a first kiss on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

But something makes your eyes drop lower, and you feel it. Satoru’s hand holds his shaft enough well to tap the tip and the length below on your core, teasing your squelching cunt.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, I want you n— Ah!” He shuts you down by crashing his lips on yours and sliding himself easily in you, stretching you impossibly wide. “S-Satoru, you’re bigger than usual,” you whimper. 

Your hands grab his broad shoulder, nails sinking in his compressed black shirt, lips moving on their own to taste yourself on his wet lips. His tender tongue asks to enter you, and you allow him, soft strokes on each other’s tongue.

Satoru moans in the melting kiss, waiting for you to adjust, and starts gentle back and forth hips moves, hissing through his teeth by the sweet, delicious tightness of yours. “You feel so good,” he squeals between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gasp, swallowing hard because of the different paces your brain can’t focus on — stolen kisses and perfect pounds into you. It’s so deep, so mastered, that it’s driving you mad and making you see stars.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru wraps his muscled arms around your back and encircles you flush against him, your heartbeat matching with his, and your fingernails slide down his back as you almost lose strength and balance every time his tip brushes against your cervix, etching red scratch marks for sure on his back as soon as he will remove his shirt.

With another buck before pulling out fully, he slides back in and manages to reach your deepest point, making your back arch and cry out. “Satoru, please, I’m so close,” you whine, wincing because of his hips rocking in you faster and harder. 

The washing machine sways to the same rhythm, threatening to give way under your weight. Your heavy, ragged breaths fill the air in a kind of steam room. Blood beats at your ears, your gummy walls clenching around his long, big dick without ceasing and have mercy for you.

But as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru slides your top off with a swift movement of his hand to free one of your breasts and taste the nipple. He sucks hard, tongue pulling and swirling at the nub like no other. The action makes you roll your eyes, the overstimulation engulfing you like a wave would.

He then uses his head to tease your nipple with a gentle tug, his cerulean-blue eyes captivated by your curve. You squeal, your walls swallowing up his thrusts inside you, tightening more and more until he gives in and takes you back into his arms, but this time with a hand under your thigh to lift it up and enable him to reach an even more precise and deep angle, making you scream out his name.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” Satoru warns you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and his jaw tense from clenching. “Please, where—”

“Inside me, Satoru,” you whimper in the hollow of his neck, closing your eyes before the following ride crashes the two of you.

Pussy clenching around his length, you squirt on him with a small cry, and Satoru does likewise, twitching as he grunts and his hips jerk to reach your womb and fill you up with his cum.

Muscles trembling from the aftermath, you pant against him, as weak as after an intense workout. “I’ve missed you so much,” Satoru whispers in your ear, in the same state as you. His large, quaking hands stroke your hair, soothing you.

White strings escape from your full, swollen-lipped pussy, the sound of trickling filling the silence of the room.

“I promise I’ll do the laundry, but please, can we have cuddles?” Satoru demands, blinking down at you with puppy-dog eyes.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and nod, a smile stretching your lips, as you reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Of course, my baby.”

DING DONG.

The ringing of the front door echoes in your ears and a memory pops into your head, slapping you in the face.

“Wasn’t Suguru supposed to come to borrow the washing machine here because his is broken?”

Satoru froze, flickering his eyes. “Huh?”

a/n: feelin to write something cute and smutty haha! i think writing things easy like this is unwinding me.

see how he’s so cute? 🥹 pls God give me one…

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! ❞

❝ THEY TOOK YOU. SO SATORU GOJO DID THE ONLY REASONABLE THING — HE TOOK THEIR LIVES ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken and found hurt, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, acts of violence, reader gets kidnapped and attacked, gojo goes insane, gojo clan sucks, higher ups get asses best, yaga and Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing,

✧ w/c: 8,446

The worst mistake Satoru Gojo ever made that morning was to get out of bed.

If he had just stayed in bed that morning, turned his cellphone on silent, and basked in the warmth of the soft comforter you had picked out (even as you balked at the exorbitant price) and especially in the warmth of your embrace — the one place where it felt as if it was okay to be himself, just him.

And now it was just him.

Because you were gone.

When his phone rang that morning, your lips had been against his, indulging in a lazy morning tryst because for once, Satoru had been off duty — or he was supposed to be off duty. Your gaze had been the ones to stir him from sleep, as even in the embrace of sleep he couldn’t resist you or your adoring eyes — the very same he held more precious than his own.

“I didn’t even say anything, how did you wake up?” And his lips curl at your slight frown, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek.

“Thought my pretty wife was admiring my beauty while I slept so I had to wake up to the same,” and he’s leaning over to press lazy kisses along your jaw.

“Did you just call yourself beautiful?” You snort, and he grins, before falling into a playful pout.

“My own wife doesn’t think her husband’s beautiful?” And you’re rolling your eyes, before rolling over on top of him, your body only covered by the black t-shirt you had stolen from him last night, a small groan as he felt your very bare thighs brush against his boxers.

You were a goddess — your smile ethereal in the sunlight streaming in from the window as you leaned over him, and he was willing to worship all his life at your altar, if you would only give him a brush of your lips.

“Of course I think you’re beautiful, I’m the one always saying that anyway,” your lips brush his chastely, far too quick and teasing, “I was just imagining what Nanami would say if he heard that,”

“Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“He would say the size of your ego is becoming a threat to Earth’s atmosphere,” and Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“And my darling wife would disagree, right?” and you look away, biting back a smile, “eh? You’d let him say such heinous things about me?”

“It’s not heinous if it’s true—“ you gasp, and he’s flipped you on your back, pressing his lips to yours to swallow your words, along with your giggles, as you break free, “Toru! Ah—“ and he nibbles at your neck, “hey!”

“You have to pay for the consequences of your actions, baby, what kind of sensei would I be?” And you’re rolling your eyes.

“I’m not your student, ngh,” you’re gasping as his teeth sinks into your neck, “if anything, I’m the one reigning you in,”

“Well then,” he chuckled in his words, as his fingers trace your jaw, “I’ll have to show you how far your student has come then,” and his lips only brush yours, when his phone rings.

“Baby,” you sigh, and he’s glancing at the phone, a sigh on his lips, as he reaches for the phone, sneaking a glance at you, before he picks up.

You press sweet kisses to his chest as you hear the faint murmur of Yaga’s voice through the phone, hearing reports of the special grades they’ve been tracking, “Old man, this is the first day off I’ve taken off in so looooong,” and he holds the phone away from his ear until Yaga’s screams fade, “fine, fine, send Ijichi,” he hangs up while Yaga was still mid-yell, tossing his phone on the bedside table with a sigh, “sweetheart,”

“I know,” you cup his cheek, his lips in a pout not made for the strongest sorcerer, but for your Satoru, “I’ll be here when you come back — waiting very impatiently,” and he chuckles, his lips finding yours.

“How’d I get so lucky to have such an understanding wife?” And your lips curl.

“You annoyed her into falling in love,” and he gapes at you as you giggle, until he’s got you pinned underneath him yet again, “what? It’s true!”

“Then I’ll have to annoy you some more, just to make sure,” and he’s finding you in another kiss, until his devilish fingers run down your sides, beginning their assault on the spots that made you laugh the most.

You pulled your lips from his, squealing, “Nooooo! Satoru, stop!” you tried to push him off from tickling you, but he was the strongest for a reason—a reason you usually were very grateful for, but not right now. And finally he relented, as you gasped and chuckled still, lips in the most adorable pout, “you’ll pay for that,”

“Oh really? How’s that, wifey?” and you kiss his lips chastely, barely a brush, as you cross your arms, fighting back a smile.

“That’s the only goodbye kiss you get,” and he gasps, clutching his chest dramatically, before that smirk of his returns, “and you try to steal one and I’m making you sleep on the couch,” And he pouts, before you press a longer kiss to his lips, “you’re lucky I love you,”

Satoru grinned, “I know.”’

Yeah, he should have never gotten out of bed.

“Where is she?” For once, Satoru’s words were devoid of humor, the laughter and happiness sapped from his very essence the moment he had heard. The moment he had felt your cursed energy waver. All this time, Satoru’s eyes had been focused on the outline of your soul, no matter where he was, because you were always the one thing he wanted to come home to — that he needed to.

“I don’t know Satoru, that’s why I had called you,” Yaga runs his fingers through his hair, “goddamnit,” he swore, scrubbing a hand down his face, “the mission came from the higher ups, they wouldn’t give me the specifics, but they said it was confidential—“

“I don’t care for the details right now, do we know anything about where she is?” Satoru keeps his words carefully measured, muscles wound taut, the only thing keeping him from using blue to destroy Jujutsu Tech in one fell swoop was the thought of you, “did she tell you anything else—“

And Ijichi bursts in, brow furrowed, “Gojo, we have a lead.”

~~~

Was this how it would end?

You knew it was in your fate to die, eventually. A wretched cycle that all of you were forced to live. An endless baton pass that always ended with the last runner dying — nothing but a pile of corpses left behind and to look back on.

And it would almost be a relief, a blessing to finally be done — if it wasn’t for Satoru.

You knew he would blame himself for this. He always blamed himself. Blamed himself when he couldn’t beat Toji. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Riko. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Geto. Because he was the strongest, and that meant he should be able to solve everyone’s problems — do everything no one else can do, be everywhere at once, and never fail.

Never. And yet, that’s not what the sleepless nights he spent working told you. It only told you that jujutsu would take everything from him, if he let it, and he would let it, if only that meant he could do more good.

And he was so good. Even if he didn’t see it — you could almost feel the lingering warmth of his embrace this morning, the wide grin on his lips as he peppered kisses down your neck, and the soft gaze of blues made of affection just for you — you would always see it for him.

You don’t see the curse coming, your vision blurred from the last strike. The crack of your bones barely registers in your ears, the curse presses you into the wall, claws pressed to your throat, drawing blood to run down your neck.

“Now, now, we can’t kill her, at least not yet,” a voice calls out, “we were given strict orders to wait,”

The curse’s growl reverberated across your skin, a desperate growl deep in its chest, the string of control being pulled taut, as its black nails dig deeper into your side, until it dropped you onto the ground like a rag doll.

Your body ached only for moments before it was chased away by numbness. And you could only wonder if this was how they felt? Riko, Haibara, Geto, all the others you watched die — was this the pain they felt? The ache of muscles that they could no longer feel, the sticky wetness of blood that seeped from their unknowing bodies, and the cold thst crept up from the tips of your toes.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to stop. But each time you felt the tug of the other side, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t. Not when Satoru needed you.

Your eyes burn with tears. And you needed him.

~~~

“Where is she?” The same question was ringing in Satoru’s head over and over since he had heard.

Candle wicks trembled with fear, casting shadows on the wall that shivered in the presence of the man before them. The papered panels was all that stood between him and these old men — the very same that played with the lives of many day in and day out. It would be far too easy to kill them all — in fact, it would barely take any effort at all with his cursed technique.

But he wouldn’t allow them the warm embrace of an instant death.

“Such insolence — how dare you enter this place and speak—“

“You ought to be thanking me,” his power sparked in the glint of his eyes, the glow of the lit wicks catching in the hard blues, “for not bashing your skulls in and ripping your hearts from your chests from the moment I entered,”

A silence swept over the room, another voice speaking, “Gojo—“

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer because I don’t want to ask again,” his voice fills the silence in the room, only broken by the sounds of the candles crackle, “where is she?”

“We cannot disclose where—“ there’s a loud crack, the splintering of wood and the wet squelch of flesh and blood, and a cold breeze swept through the room, the candles going out.

Satoru’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his neck, forcing the broken floorboards digging into his wrinkled skin, “I said I want an answer, do you think I would think twice about killing any of you?”

There’s a pause and the silence is only filled by the sound of gore dripping down the paper screens and hitting the floor.

“The only reason I haven’t yet was there was no point to it — no meaning,” and he could see you this morning, his lips curled for you, a strangled choking noise leaving his throat as the pads of his fingers squeezed around his neck, “but now I have every reason to, so tell me before I lose my patience,”

A silence fills the room again, until one of them speaks, “Let him go, and we’ll tell you.”

~~~

“Who do you work for?” the words come out strangled, your fingers bunching up your soaked fabric and pressing it to the gash on your stomach, “why did you bring me here?” You force yourself not to give them the satisfaction of a flinch.

“Do you really think it would be that simple to get me to reveal the reason, jujutsu sorcerer?” you hear a distant laugh, “we have our reasons, isn’t that simple enough? Or rather—”

His footsteps clapped against the floor, your head wrenched upwards, as a small yelp escapes your lips, “does it matter when you’re going to die either way?”

And you grit your teeth, before spitting on his face, half blood, half saliva, “At least I don’t have to live a life as pathetic as yours,” his fingers squeeze at your chin, your jaw aching under his grasp.

“Pathetic?” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt before, throwing you to the floor, body screaming in pain, but you refuse to show weakness, even as tears burn at your tear ducts, “And yet, I’m not the one bloodied and battered and two inches from death, bitch,” he scoffs, muttering, “I can see why they ordered us to kill you now, who would want someone like you around?”

“Now I’m listening, who gave you those orders?” Another voice says from behind him. The man freezes, while you lift your head, a small smile on your lips, “are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid? Well, I don’t really need to even ask that, do I?”

He was shrouded in shadow, but you didn’t need to see him to know it was him — especially as he tugged his blindfold down with two fingers, blue eyes devoid of any humor or joy, and instead only with hatred.

“Satoru Gojo,” the voice left the man’s lips slowly, but before he could react, the special grade curse that had held you was barreling towards him in a moment, before Satoru held it at bay with his infinity, the other curses following suit — how many did this curse user have in the room with him? Three? No more like five or six, but even so — you scoffed under your breath, it wouldn’t matter, “No, you idiots! Don’t—”

And in a moment, they are eviscerated — held back by his infinity, deep seeded growls and roars leaving their lips, “c’mon now, is this the best you can do? I was expecting more from those bold enough to take my wife, but I guess I expected too much,” he sighs, before he lifts one hand, “Cursed Technique Amplification, Blue,”

You barely can make out the screams from one another, the splatter of their essence raining down from above, until you hear footsteps rushing towards you, and you’re hauled to your feet, pressed against the cursed user, his hand around your neck.

“One more move, and I break her neck,” Satoru landed below with ease, his gaze raised until he met yours, and you saw it soften for you — a silent question of ‘are you okay?’ and your nod and a forced smile that told him you were okay enough.

“You can try,” his words were slow and measured, just as his steps towards you were, “but I don’t think you understand who you are dealing with,”

He tensed, fingers digging into your neck, “I know perfectly well who you are, Satoru Gojo, and I am not afraid to die by your hand for this,”

Satoru’s lips curled, “I wasn’t talking about me,”

The kidnapper’s eyes narrowed, “What?”

And you jabbed at his knee, the bone splintering under your force, but you barely hear the snap or his scream because of the blood roaring in your ears. You don’t spare a second before slamming your other hand into his head, nose breaking from your fist, blood splattering across your arm. You ready yourself for another move, before you felt him ripped away from you, a strong arm around you to steady you.

“It’s okay, I got you, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Satoru murmured, soft words meant to soothe you, as his body envelops your tense muscles, until you finally relax into his arms. Your eyes burned with tears, as you looked up at him, before your eyes slid to the kidnapper, Satoru’s hand around his throat.

“I knew you’d come for me, Toru,” you whispered, grasping onto the front of his jacket, “I knew you would,”

“I always will,” and his eyes turned to the man, voice even, “should I kill him once I’m done questioning him?”

You know he means it.

“I don’t know,” you reply, fingers curling as you pressed your face against his chest, “but I don’t want you to have blood on your hands, not for me,”

“It wouldn’t be for you. It would be for me,” he says softly, “but we can discuss it later,” and then others began to flood the scene, the sights and sounds feeling distant as your eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“Satoru, I’m—“ your voice broke, “I really tried—“

“Shh, you did great,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion, slumping over in his arms, “I’ll handle the rest.”

~~~

“You all must be wondering why I called this meeting,” Satoru said, standing at the head of the Gojo clan’s meeting room. It had been long since he had stood as the head, but far too short for his liking. He had discarded this part of his life as soon as he could, joining Jujutsu Tech without a second of hesitation, and continued to run the operations of his clan as an adult, behind the scenes.

But it seems he was too lax.

It had been a few weeks since the incident. You were asleep for a good day in and out while Shoko worked on you. She came out of your room, pulling off the surgical cap off her head, and Satoru got to his feet, as Shoko removed her gloves and mask, “She’s fine, Satoru,” and he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“How bad was it?” he asks, and she tilts her head, hands slipping into her pockets.

“Are you asking that to know how badly she was injured or so you can do worse to whoever did this?” Satoru shrugs, lips parting and she holds up a hand, “never mind, the less I know, the better,” she grabs your file and opens it, “most of her injuries related to cursed technique burn out — it seems whoever took her used curse spirits to attack her, she mentioned when she was conscious briefly that they didn’t control the curses, but they seemed to be able to work with them somehow,”

“More intelligent curses have been appearing since Yuji became Sukuna’s vessel,” Satoru murmured, but this wasn’t related to the asparagus special grade or volcano head. It was separate — it was personal.

“But all of this to take a first grade sorcerer, why?” and he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t for her — it was for me,” and that’s why they hadn’t killed you, “is she awake?”

Shoko sighed, “She should be waking up in a bit. She didn’t need much aside from some RCT treatment and stitches for the wounds she sustained,” she places a hand on his shoulder, “go see her, and try not to murder anyone until she wakes up,” she turns to leave, heels clicking.

“Wait,” Satoru stops her, and she pauses, “I need a favor.”

~~~

Satoru never liked hospitals. He hadn’t spent much time in them for actual injuries, because of his abilities. However, he spent far too much time inside medical facilities for the Gojo clan’s required medical check-ups. It was to ensure the future head’s health, he was told, but really, it was an excuse to make sure their cash cow would still give them milk.

Because that’s all he ever was — a pawn.

But he had long shed that role, tossed it from the board, when he had left for Jujutsu Tech. But even so, he lingered outside your room, some things still stuck. Especially when he had new memories — of seeing his comrades dead bodies laid on cold metal slabs.

And would you have been another if he hadn’t made it in time?

Satoru shakes his head of his thoughts, and opens the door. You were still asleep. Tucked into the hospital bed, you looked so small somehow, fragile — two things he never saw you as. How could he have? When you were the one on his first day to greet him and then slap him when he had something pretentious or childish (neither of you remembered but you had insisted it was one or the other).

And he had never let you go after that. But now…he couldn’t even hold you.

The sharp beeps of the machine monitoring your vitals, connected by the tubes and wires that ran all over your body. He reaches for his blindfold so he can look at you, really look at you, but he can’t. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into the soft of his palms,

But you were alive. You were alive. You were alive.

That’s what he had to tell himself as he drew closer to your side — no matter how you looked now, you were okay. And that’s what was most important.

“Are you going to brood by my bedside all day?” his gaze snaps to you, your eyes fluttering open still, still drooping and exhausted, but a soft smile on your lips, “Because hospitals are depressing enough, Toru,”

He chuckles, forcing his tears back and his voice to be event, “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot to pull out the stops for you this time,” and his fingers find yours, lacing as they always did, but they felt so cold, “next time I’ll bring confetti, balloons, streamers, and I’ll serenade you even—”

You snort, “You may be the best at everything, but I know you’ll sing offkey on purpose just to piss off Shoko or anyone else that visits me,” and he laughs shakily, a sigh stuck in his throat.

He presses his forehead to yours, “I love you, so much, y’know that, yeah?”

“I love you too, so much, Toru,” you cup his cheeks, turning your head to press your lips to his hand, “thank you for saving me,”

“You saved yourself, I just cleaned up a little,” his lips find yours in a soft kiss, and your brow furrowed, “what? Are my kissing skills that bad?”

You roll your eyes, “No, but are you okay?” and he scoffs softly, shaking his head.

“You’re the one who got kidnapped and hurt, and you’re asking me if I’m—”

“Satoru, you asked me if you should murder that guy,” you tilted your head, “I know you’re not against killing if it’s necessary or deserved, but the way you said it, I got worried,”

“I’m fine, I just—” he cut off, “I just need to figure out who did this,” you squeeze his hand, “I have to,”

“Satoru—“

“I know you’re okay, but you don’t know how afraid I was that you wouldn’t be—“ he cuts off, “and it’s not just that,” his fingers curl around yours tighter, “it’s not just us we’ll have to worry about in the future. We’re already a family, but what will happen if someone targets you and our future kids?” He takes a shaky breath at the thought,

“I have to make an example.”

Your gaze grows sad, pressing a kiss to his lips, if only to ground him for a moment, “I know,” but you frown all the same, “but promise me, you won’t do anything stupid, ok?”

But he was far from stupid — but the people before him were as close as anyone could get.

“You all are aware of my wife’s attack a few weeks ago,” he said in measured words, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m here to tell you that she has succumbed to her wounds,” his voice wavered, breaking, “she’s gone,”

There were whispers and murmurs that swept over the room, all were silenced by the lift of a hand — one of the Gojo Clan elders, the geezer leader as he liked to call him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Satoru,” he said, lips twisted in a fake frown, “we heard that your beloved wife passed from her injuries a week ago,”

“And yet, I see you’ve brought someone for me to meet,” his eyes slide to the woman dressed for a wedding rather than a meeting, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman’s painted lips kept in a neutral expression, her body so rigid he could have mistaken her as a statue if not for his six eyes, and her eyes refused to meet his.

“Satoru, I understand you are mourning, but we have to think of the future of the Gojo clan, and our future place in the Jujutsu world is only as secure as the next heir—“

“And so you thought to disrespect my wife by trying to marry your choice?” but their brows furrow as he begins to laugh, one that sends shivers down their backs.

The elders all gape at him, sharing looks, before turning back to him as his laughter finally settles into a quiet chuckle, “Satoru, what is this?”

“It’s funny that you ever thought I’d fall for this bullshit,” he pulls off his sunglasses, cerulean eyes gleaming in the low light, “did you know my wife was never supposed to be sent on this mission? Or rather, there were no reports of cursed spirits in the area, but yet, orders came for her to report to where she was,”

A hush falls over the group, “And why are you telling us this?”

“Because I think you all have forgotten your place,” in a blink, he’s grasping the neck of the elder, the very same man who had taken him away from his parents at the age of two to ensure his training was done properly, “I am the strongest, not the Gojo clan. I’m the only Gojo needed for the clan to be prosperous,”

“You insolent child—“ Satoru squeezes around his neck, gasps and whimpers clawing their way out from his grip, veins bulging as he tried and failed to pull Satoru’s hands off. He had even let the old man penetrate his infinity and all he had managed was a scratch or two.

“You should be careful when you’re talking to the ‘child’ who has your life in his hands,” and he grows silent, “now, to get back to the point, where did those orders come from?”

A quiet washed over the room, the only sounds were the shaky gasps of the elder in his hand, “W-what are—“

“I had a chat with the higher ups — those rotten old geezers may not like me, but I know they like all their limbs intact,” he drops the elder and twists his arm behind his back, wrenching back until he heard a cracking noise, “and they told me the orders came from the Gojo clan, and I wondered why would my own clan send the wife of the head off to be executed,”

“Satoru—“ one of the elders spoke, and he tilted his head.

“If you want him to die, your excuses will only make this go faster,” and his mouth shuts, “I’ll take your silence as a confirmation that all of you had a hand in this,” he sighs, removing his sunglasses, running his fingers through his hair, “man, I’ve had conspiracies against me, but I never guessed you’d target the one person I value above everything else. But I knew you would fail her little test,”

He’s met with furrowed brows and gritted teeth, the elder looking up at him in fear, “W-what?”

“You see if I had it my way, I would have killed you all, no questions asked,” his fingers close over the top of his head, wrenching him backwards to meet his gaze, “But my wife, my very much alive wife,” he adds, with a glance to the woman looking increasingly faint with each second that passes, “she would want me to see if you’d come clean about the plan and whether some of you were innocent,” his lips curl, “but she doesn’t know the bloody history of the Gojo clan like we do,” and his fingers dig into the flesh of the elder, “so what’s a few more bloodstains?”

He tears off his head, screams ringing out as a rush of scarlet paints the walls, splattering across the other elders. The woman offered to be his wife rings over the others, her shrill shriek piercing their eardrums. It’s a dull thud as the lifeless corpse falls to the floor, as Satoru wiped the blood from his cheek, a cock of his head and eyes flashing with anger.

“You can’t do this! You—“ Satoru’s fist connects with his face, blood flooding his features.

“I can, because I’ve decided the Gojo clan needs to get rid of the tumors that infect it, and besides,” his body crumples to the floor as his foot slams into their stomach, a sick, wet noise that draws gasps and open mouthed silent screams from the others, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Please, please, she’s alive—” one of them begged, all of them falling to their knees, wrinkled faces contorted in fear, blown out eyes and faces wet with tears only making them more ugly than he thought was possible — he really couldn’t end up like these geezers, “we only wanted what was best—we wanted the next head of the clan to be even more powerful than you are—”

He laughs, not an ounce of mirth or levity, shivers running down the spines of the others who watched, as he stepped over the body of the elder, lips twisted into a wide grin, “And there’s your mistake,”

He loomed over the one who spoke, shadow cast over him, as his fingers curled around his arm, before breaking it off, spurts of blood splattering on his clothes, mixing with the other — some of it flecked across his face.

Satoru wiped his face with his forearm, tilting his head. He knew they were begging and pleading — lips moving, words forming, but it all fell on deaf ears. After all they had never bothered to listen to any sorcerer before, did they? Suguru’s face came to mind — flashes of the spring he would never get back — so why should he listen to theirs?

“You were too busy worrying about the next head, when you should’ve been worried about the current one.”

~~~~

You were asleep.

Moonlight gave way to your features in the pitch black room, your soft breaths warming his fingers that ran over your cheek. Shoko had discharged you yesterday, and he had brought you home — but even now with you home, he couldn’t sleep. It felt as if you’d disappear the moment he took his eyes off you, slipping from his grasp just as you almost did.

But you didn’t. You’re here.

It was the same words you had whispered to him every night when he had curled up beside you, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, aren’t I?”

But you could disappear.

You could if he wasn’t there with you — if he wasn’t fast enough. Because he couldn’t be everywhere at once, not even the strongest could accomplish that. But he wanted to keep you safe all the same. Would it be selfish to lock you up? Hide you away somewhere others could never find you? Keep you hidden if only to keep you safe.

But you never would be safe, not while you were with him.

“Toru?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, eyes fluttering open to meet his as your fingers reach for his cheek, “is that blood?”

And he’s pinned your hands in a blink of an eye, quickly and quietly, “it’s not mine,” his gaze glows in the dark, catching the moonlight streaming in, and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Toru, what happened?” And he kisses along your cheekbones, your jaw, your nose, your chin, “Satoru—“

“I killed them,” his fingers trace the folds of the satin robe he had helped you into, brushing against the bandages that hid your wounds from his sight, but he could see them all the same, “the people who did this,”

Your brow furrows, “Toru, what do you mean the people who—“

“Why do you stay with me?” He leans down to find your lips in a bruising kiss, lips sliding against yours as his fingers undo the knot of your robe, letting the fabric fall away from your bare body.

“What—“ his lips part from yours, strings of spit connecting your mouths.

“Why do you stay with me when I’m a monster?” and your eyes soften.

“You’re not—“ and he’s cutting you off with another kiss, as your hands struggle under his grip, the other grazing down your side, finding the swell of your hip only to squeeze.

“I’m the perfect weapon,” he kisses down the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your soft flesh harshly, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I could have killed them all, because I know they all knew—“

“Knew what?”

“My clan elders — they wanted to have you die on a mission, they wanted to stage it, so they could have me marry who they wanted,” he pauses, drawing a finger down the valley of your breasts, “create a perfect heir,”

“Satoru—“

He kisses you again, swallowing your words along with your thoughts, parting only to speak, “so I killed them, I didn’t use my cursed technique, I wanted them to feel the pain they gave you, wanted them to feel a fraction of what you did,”

You can’t find a second to speak, his fingers now sliding up your bare leg, as he presses himself closer, erection against your inner thigh, “Toru, you didn’t have to put yourself through that—“

“I wanted to,” he parts your thighs easily, large palm spread against your inner thigh, fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “wanted to tear them to shreds for what they did to you — and what they wanted to do—”

“I’m okay, Satoru, I’m—” a bitter laugh leaves his throat, as his fingers find your bandages again.

“Do you call coming home half dead okay now by jujutsu sorcerer standards?” he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair, “I told you after Suguru that I would fix this rotten jujutsu world,” he presses kisses up your thigh, “and their deaths did fix one thing — no sorcerer will touch you or our future children again, especially when they speak to the woman the clan wanted to marry off to when your body wasn’t even cold yet,”

“You left her,” and he nods, eyes unable to meet yours.

“I only killed the elders I gathered, anyone else was spared — they didn’t dig their own graves,” his hand loosens around your wrists and you reach for his cheek, cupping his cheek, despite the blood, “I don’t regret it, I’d kill anyone who hurts you, but I didn’t want you to see me like this,”

“Like what?”

“Like a monster,” and you click your tongue, his eyes flitting to yours.

“You’re my Satoru, not a monster, you did what you did to protect me, protect our family,” you murmur, “that’s just about the most Satoru thing you could do,”

“But—“

“And if you are deemed a monster anyway?” You lean up, fingers smearing the blood against your own cheek, “then I’ll just become a monster with you,”

He crashes into you with a kiss, cupping your cheeks, as his tongue slips into your mouth, “can you really be a monster, sweetheart?”

He drags his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your soft flesh along the hollow of your throat, “T-Toru—“ and his lips find the swell of your breasts, his tongue dragging over your pert nipple, while his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, “y’know I can be, I would be, for you,”

He peers up through half lidded eyelids, his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, “I can’t imagine someone so sweet like you as one,” he murmurs, as he pulls back, lips slick with spit, as he drags his fingers toying with the soaked fabric of your panties, “and I wouldn’t want to drag you down with me,”

Your fingers reach forward, propping yourself up on your other arm, “Drag me or not,” you cup his chin, “you’re stuck with me,”

“Can we make it a binding vow?” you roll your eyes, and his lips curl for the first time since he’s got here, “c’mon sweets, I have to get my reassurance somehow,”

You hold up the giant rock on your finger, the very diamond you had told Satoru was too much, “this wasn’t enough—” the last word is a bite back gasp, as he noses at the drenched crotch of your underwear, a deep inhale that has you squirming, “No, Toru—” but he’s pinned your thighs down, prying them open, as he gazes up at you.

“Uh-uh, princess, I don’t remember saying you could move, especially when you could reopen your wounds,” his nose bumps against your clothed clit, a wicked smile as he drags his tongue over the already wet fabric, “you still haven’t seen how much of a monster I can be.”

~~~

“Ngh, Toru, can’t, I can’t—” but you can — you know you can from the heat building in your sloppy cunt under already soaked through sheets, and he knows too well you can too, from the way your pussy flutters around his three fingers, knuckle deep as they piston in and out, while his mouth toys with your abused clit, “please—”

You lost track of how many times you had orgasmed — his fingers, his mouth, and sometimes both — he had pulled each one after the other, allowing small reprieves, only to bury himself back in. He had even had you ride his face at one point, and you were sure he’d suffocate under your drenched cunt, until he flipped you on your back again.

“Please what, sweets?” he slows his fingers, curling them a certain way that makes your lips fall open, “you’ll have to use your words,” he pulls back.

Chest heaving, chin glistening with your release, his tongue cleaned his lips off before he wiped the rest off, before pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. And soon enough, his fingers were sinking back into your messy pussy, splitting you open with his thick fingers.

“Didn’t you say you wanted this, sweetheart?” his words cut through the wet squelch of his digits fucking you open, “wanted to drag you down with you, wanted this—” and he sucks hard at your clit, tongue flicking over it, making your back arch, “wanted me to drag you down with me,” and he punctuates it with a thrust of his fingers, brushing against a spot that has you seeing spots, “gotta make good on your promise, and I have to erase all the pain they gave you,”

And you barely manage to latch onto the desperation in his voice, the way the facade flickers.

He fucks you ever so slightly deeper, and you cum hard, tearing through you as your body tenses, pleasure washing over you as it did every single other time, melding into the others, “Good girl,” he murmurs, as he works his fingers through your orgasm, the slick noises becoming white noise, until he finally pulls the digits from inside you.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his digits clean one by one of your cum, his lips curled in a soft smile as they meet your gaze, his hand sliding up your thigh gently as it quaked, the very same fingers he had used to murder the people that hurt you, were so gentle when it was you — he was always so gentle when it was you.

But never himself.

You reach up for him, palm cupping his cheek, while the other finds his bare shoulder — clothes long discarded, “I love you,” and the cracks spread, spider webbing from the epicenter, “you know that right?”

His words seem caught in the back of his throat, “Even now?”

“Especially now,” and he’s pressing you against the mattress again, your thighs folded against your chest, legs slung over his shoulders, “you saved me,”

His gaze softened, “you saved me first,” and again and again, he couldn’t count the number of times you did, by just existing, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh, “but if I’m too late next time?”

“You can’t be everywhere,” your fingers lace with his, “and I just need you,” and still in this situation, his ego can inflate at your praise — nosing at your thigh, a deep inhale, before dragging his tongue up the side of your leg, “only you.”

He drags his weeping erection over your soaked folds, leaking tip teasing your slit while he watched his pre mix with yours, “Think you need more than just me,” and when he lets the tip sink into you, your lips part with his name, just as your walls part for him, “want something else, wifey?”

“You’re the worst,” you look up at him, lips curling despite your pout, your fingers grasping at the sheets under you, as your cunt tries to swallow him whole, “Toru, how long are you going to tease me for?”

And he’s pulling out only to draw a groan from your lips, “If you’re such a monster, thought you could take it—“ and your hand reaches for him, tugging him close by his neck.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now—“

He grins, “If you insist,”

Fuck.

He sinks into you all at once, all too fast and all too slow, balls deep as he bottoms out inside you, your walls fluttering only to pull him deeper, “fuck,” your head falls back as his tip brushes against your cervix, “too fucking big, I swear if you rip my stitches open—”

“You don’t think I cleared this before I decided to do this, baby?” He grunts, glancing down to see how your messy hole stretched open as he sunk into you, “can’t believe anyone thought I’d fuck anyone but you — you’re the only one for me, sweetheart,”

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to your pussy stuffed full with his huge dick, “You talking to me or my cunt—“ and he begins to fuck you, remark undercut by the moan that he pulled from your lips, “f-fucker—“

“That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” the lewd sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, his soft grunts and your moans, “wanted me to fuck you open, yeah?” and he wanted this, needed this after this week — it had been too long since he felt you under him like this — real and alive, his name leaving your swollen, kiss bitten lips.

And you needed it just the same — needed his fingers to dig into the softness of your thighs, needed the way only he could fill every inch of you, needed the soft murmurs of how good you felt, how much he loved you.

“Fuck, Toru, so fast,” you whine, but how could slow down he when you felt so good — so wet and warm, you had joked he could cum just looking at you alone barely a fist around his dick, but it was true — and being inside you just made him unravel completely, all sense of himself lost and drowning in just you, “hngh, it’s so deep,” you babble, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart, gonna fuck you deep, gotta make sure you feel it don’t I?” he coos, and his hand snakes between your thighs, pressing his palm to the bulge in your stomach, making you gasp as your walls clench around him, drawing a grunt from his lips, “that’s it, good girl,”

You keen at his praise, the wet squelch of your cunt around his cock ringing in your ears, balls slapping against your pussy with a rhythm that echoes in your head, as your body arches into him, needing him deeper, harder, faster. He’s nearly rutting into you, his thrusts growing shallow as you clamp down on him, achingly close.

“Those old fucking geezers don’t know what they were talking about—“ he grunts, running his mouth all the same even as he sunk impossibly fucking deeper, “don’t know this is the only cunt I’d ever breed. The only one I’d ever breed. The only one I can. Know why?” And you only can whimper, as his fingers rub against your clit, “because this is the only one made for my cum,”

And his words push you over the edge, cumming hard and fast, head lolling back, as his tip bullies your womb, as he fucks you hard over and over through your orgasm, sending pleasure ripping up your spine. Satoru groans as he feels you spasm, soaking in him in your juices, as he watches a white ring of your cum form around the base of his dick, dripping onto the clean sheets with the evidence of your arousal.

He can’t hold back.

He rails into you, a moan of your name falling past your lips making you pull him close, shifting your legs around his back just so he can sink into you even a centimeter deeper—

“Fuck, g’nna cum,” he’s meeting your glazed over eyes, knowing “gonna fill you up, yeah? Get you nice and round with my baby,” he groans at the thought, the image of you carrying his kid, stomach swollen as you grow his child, “and they’ll know, all of them, that you’re the only one I’d cum in,” and he’s so close, dick twitching as your arms around his neck tug him close.

“Cum in me, Toru, give me our baby,” and that’s it, he’s spilling inside you, spurting his hot release inside, again and again, as he fucks it deeper, filling you up.

“That’s it, take every drop,” he’s relentless, until he finally eases from you, his release trickling out. A soft sigh parts your lips that grows into a sharp gasp as he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Toru—” you whine.

“Aw did you think we were done sweetheart?” a pillow cushions your still bandaged stomach, placed underneath to support you, a shudder down your body as he rubs his cock against you, as he leans down, hot words murmured against your ear with a grin, before he sinks back into you with one thrust, stuffing his spilling cum back inside, “One thing about monsters are that we also have monstrous stamina.”

~~~

It was early, but Satoru was already awake.

He always had trouble sleeping, but now? His eyes found your sleeping form beside him, under the covers and safe, just as he had left you that morning. He didn’t know if he’d ever sleep more than three hours now. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your cheek, but you needed sleep — one of three things you never could live without (food and himself being the other two). And you definitely needed it now, after he had kept you up — nearly all night.

You shifted in your sleep, revealing several blooming hickies and love bites he had littered your body with, lips curling at the sight, as he pulled the blanket back up around you.

He was selfish — he should have divorced you the moment he had gotten you back. Let you leave because it was the right thing to do — to let you live a life safe without him. But he couldn’t — because he couldn’t imagine waking another morning, spending another day without knowing where you were, how you were doing.

It was selfish. But you let him be — especially when it came to you.

And his phone vibrates on the nightstand, whirring again and again, as he picks it up with a sigh, Yaga’s name flashing on the display. He takes one last glance at you before slipping from bed, stepping into the living room.

“Sensei! To what—“ he hardly gets a word out before screams fill his ears. He rubs his chin, it was too early for this.

He makes out the words — Gojo clan, dead, scandal, murder (wasn’t sure if he meant if he was going to murder Gojo or he meant what happened to the elders).

“It was a clan dispute, there was no need to tell you,”

Satoru held the phone away from his ear, Yaga’s yelling told him everything he needed to know, “Yeah, yeah, I know, the higher ups know — or they probably do by now,” he almost chuckles at the thought, and how he would love to do the same to them — knuckles white as he grips his phone — love to make them feel the same pain the sorcerers cared nothing for felt, make them—

Arms curl around him from behind and he knows it’s you, his body relaxing into your touch with practiced ease, your face buried in his back. His fingers relax, finding yours, tracing over the back, as he lifts one hand to his lips.

—But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Fine, fine, no need to have a heart attack, old man — I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Yaga was still speaking until Satoru hung up, turning to face yoy, your eyes half closed as his fingers found your cheek, “what are you doing awake, sweets?”

His lips curl as you lean into his touch, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up,” you murmur, nose brushing against his fingers as your eyes flutter open and closed, “how am I supposed to sleep when my pretty husband isn’t next to me?”

“Just pretty?” and you snort, as his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you to his chest, your head right over his heart, a content sigh on your lips.

“Are you ever serious?”

“Always,” and you smile up at him, chin resting against him, “what is it? Do I got something on my face?”

“You think our baby will have your pretty face?” You hum, and his gaze softens at the thought, “I hope so,”

He grins, “You do huh? And here I thought my ego didn’t need more stroking,”

“It doesn’t, but my husband deserves every bit of praise he gets — because he doesn’t get enough,” you kiss him softly, nose bumping against his.

“You planning on showering me with your praise, sweetheart?” And your lips finds his again.

“Always,” and he’s leading you back towards the bedroom, “where are you—“ you squeal as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you back to bed, gently placing you down, a grin on his lips.

He drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “Do you think I’m gonna let you leave this bed without breeding you right?” He clicks his tongue, “I’m far from done with you, wifey,”

You’re so beautiful, hair spread on the pillow like a halo, “So we’re not leaving until I’m pregnant?” Your fingers brush against his cheek, “we might be here a while,”

Satoru wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He kisses you again, long and languid, “There’s nothing I want more than to stay in bed with you.”

✧ a/n: sorry i've been gone for a bit!! i got super busy with work and got hella writer's block and right when i was feeling ready to write-- i got sick. but i'm doing much better now!!

✧ taglist: @arrivedercis, @ssetsuka, @ch3rryistheg, @satorusmochis, @sunarins-bae, @blindbabycadder , @yihona-san06 , @dantaku , @archieballs , @ceruleansol , @mqcht , @xxemmarldxx , @chiyokoemilia , @theshylittleelfgirl , @rroseselavyyy , @out4thenight , @jatyes , @unreliablefangs , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @celestialseasart , @minsified , @akemfs , @ranatherealestsigma , @zherryxtar , @virtualangelllllll , @itsmebien , @difluenza , @rougebrainsludge , @mochigod , @euphorism , @vii-is-free , @elliesndg , @beneaththelamina , @monarch-of-anime-simping , @hhimetsu , @simply-a-s1mp , @jennieclips , @svt-backup , @angelbunsx , @duhhitsmiranda , @satowooo , @fushitoru , @lesaurita , @briluvslee , @gojo-gets-me-wetter , @catsgomurp , @pinkyvomit , @hyori2 , @wakashudou , @celestialgojo , @sxnkuna, @nakariabnrb, @dazailover1900, @hanlay, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @kxouri, @forest-fruits-jam, @spider-fan72, @strawmariee

[everythingseasoning]

Smut reader for my Series: Stay with me, Satoru

Virgin reader x feral Satoru

MINORS GET OUT, MDNI, 18+

Trigger Warnings: feral satoru, little bit of manhandling, satoru kinda disregards reader’s nerves (this fic is not for everyone, especially if you have certain triggers, so please read at ur own discretion 🤍)

He couldn’t help it— you were too cute. Satoru let out a low chuckle, his ocean-eyes flashing like a glacier in the moonlight. You watched him as he stared right into your own eyes; Satoru’s irises gleamed, and he smiled maniacally. He was looking into the depths of your soul without really seeing your present self— your expression shifted to one of concern, but Satoru kept staring, not moving at all—

Oh. It was happening again. There were times Satoru went a little insane, showing an unhinged side to himself. Like right now, with those shining eyes. You felt a chill run through your body. “Satoru? You’re scaring me,” you said quietly.

You saw something flicker across Satoru’s face, and your boyfriend cocked his head.

“Sorry babe,” Satoru said, voice low, sensual and rich, warbling. Suddenly you were in the air— you let out a yelp as you felt an impact, your back on the mattress, the breath knocked out from your chest. Satoru stood looming over you, his blue eyes flashing in the dark, his snow-white hair glowing like the moon.

“T–toru—” you squeaked, eyes wide as saucers as you gazed up at him.

“Now, my love, if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to take you this instant. And that wouldn’t be good for you, would it now?” Satoru sing-songed.

“Wait— this is— this is too much,” you gasped as Satoru took a slow, calculated step towards you. Things were going too fast. You were anxious, you’d never had sex before, and you wanted to take things slowly. But all you could see was Satoru’s tall, lean frame domineering over you, and the rainy window behind him. Brilliant lightning flashed in the purple distance.

“What’s too much, darling?” Satoru asked, taking another step closer.

“I just feel like you’re going to wreck me. I’m really nervous.”

Satoru was never one to get turned on by weakness, but for some reason, your fragility and fawn-like nature worked oh so well in the bedroom.

My my, he just had so much to show you. You wouldn’t be an inexperienced virgin by the end of the night, not with his plan. He’s a teacher, after all. He wants you to figure out the way by diving right in, and figuring out your own rhythm.

Your breath hitched as Satoru pounced on you, his knees bent on the mattress, caging you in as he straddled you from above.

“I am going to wreck you darling,” Satoru breathed, as he pressed feather light kisses to your forehead. You shivered as your boyfriend kept whispering, his voice rumbling gently in the dark. “And you’ll find out what you like, what makes you feel so good. It’s time to learn fast, baby.”

i don’t know if i should finish this— i found this draft in my Google docs for my upcoming enemies to lovers, slow burn & detailed Gojo x reader fanfiction series here, // i must’ve written this when I was feeling a little something something. ♨️♨️

Comment to be on my tag list & if you want me to finish this smut!